Legendary, Book Two: Iolaus - Chin
by StaceyLC
Summary: How much can the soul take? What is the price of redemption? These questions haunted Iolaus as he traveled to Chin twenty years ago, entering under the tutelage of Chan master Li Er in order to find the answers, and himself. In the present, Hercules & Iolaus try to reconcile the friendship that made them legendary. Hercules, Iolaus, Jason, and some OCs.
1. Prologue

_To die, to sleep-_

 _To sleep-perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub,_

 _For in that sleep of death what dreams may come_

 _When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,_

 _Must give us pause._

Hamlet: Act 3, Scene 1

* * *

The first incident occurred within days of him coming back.

They had just left the city, and he couldn't stop talking, and Hercules kept stopping and looking at him and touching him and hugging him, as if trying to make sure he was still there. The sun, the air, the grass, the feel of Hercules' hand on his shoulder… everything felt new and wonderful and _alive_. He picked up flowers, rocks, dirt, it didn't matter, and stared at it with open fascination. This was real. _He_ was real.

He was _home_.

He and Hercules fell into their old rhythm instantly, as if not a day had gone by, and it wasn't long before they came across what he used to like to refer to as the "daily dose" of bandits. He felt his heart start pumping faster.

His heart… alive and beating.

Rush of adrenaline.

Senses focused.

Hercules split off to the right, and he automatically to the left. Hercules was calm, but _he_ was almost giddy. This wasn't like the fight with the Horsemen, when he was still part of the Light. This was real, this was here, this was _fun_.

Or, it _was_ fun, until after he had taken out the first two bandits he missed an obvious feint and felt the cold bite of metal sink into his bicep as a sword slashed across his body. He gave into the natural reaction to head butt the offending bandit and knock him unconscious, and the thug collapsed to the ground. Luckily it had been a bad aim, but the shock of it suddenly did something very different to his body. Giddiness melted into surprise and confusion. He froze, and stared at his arm in bewilderment. It hurt… it hurt _bad._ What _was_ this?

Oh.

Pain.

He poked at the wound experimentally, causing more stinging agony to shoot down his arm. Something came off on his hand. It was wet and red and slick.

Blood.

His blood.

He narrowed his eyes at it, moving it around between his fingers. How was this possible? He didn't bleed. He _couldn't_ bleed. Dead people didn't bleed.

But, no. That wasn't right. He was alive. He'd gotten back a few days ago. They'd saved the world, and Michael sent him back. Why didn't he remember?

A voice. It sounded familiar.

Hercules.

Hercules was here and he was here and this was Greece.

Sounds of fighting. They were in a fight?

Bandits. They were fighting bandits. Hercules needed his help.

"Iolaus, what are you _doing_?" the demigod shouted, tossing one of the bandits aside into a nearby tree.

Reality snapped back into focus, and Iolaus instinctively rushed to Hercules' side. Together they took out the remainder of the group and stood over the unconscious bodies. Hercules prodded one of them with his foot, mumbling something about Ares not wasting any time. Iolaus was sweaty and breathing heavily. Blood trickled down is arm. He stared at it, watching the line it made across his skin.

"What was that about?" Hercules asked, turning back to Iolaus. He saw the way his friend was looking at his arm, and his brow furrowed in concern. "Iolaus? You okay?"

Iolaus didn't answer and kept poking at the wound, wincing every time his finger touched it. "My arm hurts," he said in confusion.

"Yeah," Hercules agreed, slowly. "You got a nasty cut. Doesn't look bad though. We probably won't even have to stitch you up. Hey!" He grabbed Iolaus' arm, because his friend was now prodding the cut harder, making more blood escape every time. "Stop that!"

"I'm bleeding," Iolaus said numbly, blinking up at Hercules as if the demigod could provide some insight as to why.

"Because you keep messing with it," Hercules told him. He was becoming increasingly alarmed. Iolaus was still staring blankly up at him, as if not really sure what was going on. His eyes were unfocused, staring at a point beyond him, and he was still and pale.

Hercules carefully put an arm around Iolaus' shoulder, making sure his friend didn't start messing with the wound again. "Come on… let me help you wrap it up."

* * *

Iolaus allowed Hercules to lead him off the path so they could sit down. He made no movement as Hercules dug out some medicinal supplies from the pack that had been tossed aside once the fighting had started.

The second the demigod started to clean the wound, Iolaus jumped, startled. He stared at Hercules and then back down at his arm. "Ow!" He seemed surprised at his own reaction.

"Iolaus, you have a gash in your arm. It's going to hurt," Hercules told him, patiently. "Just sit still."

Iolaus obeyed, and Hercules went about cleaning and dressing the wound as his friend stared blankly off into the afternoon sky.

"There," Hercules said, sitting back. "All done."

Iolaus glanced at the bandage, brow furrowed, and then picked up his amulet. Hercules watched him warily as he turned the dark stone over in his hand. "Why is this broken?"

A jolt went through Hercules. "Um… it broke in half when…" He swallowed. "When you saved Nebula."

"But… why is this here? It's not real. This isn't mine. If it's not real, how is it broken? It shouldn't be broken." He rubbed his chest, trying to feel for a scar that wasn't there.

Hercules tried to keep his face neutral and stay calm. This was about to happen sooner or later. Iolaus had been dead a long time. "Iolaus-"

"This isn't me," the blond continued. "This isn't right, it's not real…" He rubbed his chest harder, looking around nervously.

"Iolaus, it's okay. You're here, it's you. It's okay-"

"No, it's not!" Iolaus shouted suddenly, making Hercules jump. "I'm… This… It's not me. This… this isn't real. It's not real…"

"Iolaus, you're you. This _is_ real. All of it. You're back. Don't you remember?"

Iolaus let the amulet drop back down and stared again at his arm. "This is new."

With effort, Hercules tried to keep the rising panic out of his voice. "You got cut."

"No… I mean… I'm new. This body…"

Hercules tried not to wince. He hadn't thought of that. In a way, Iolaus was right. Hercules had buried the shell that was left when Dahak had finally been vanquished and had left Iolaus' body. Michael had returned Iolaus from the Light fully formed, just as he had been when he'd died, except for the pink scar on his chest from where the knife had sunk into his heart. Iolaus… his soul, what made him who he was, was here in a brand new body, and the other body was in the ground, rotting away.

The demigod repressed a shudder. He couldn't imagine the things that were probably going through his friend's mind right now.

"Iolaus," he began, "this _is_ you. This body… it's just that. A body. What I buried… that wasn't you. What's _inside_ is who you are." He put a hand on his shoulder and was relieved when Iolaus didn't flinch. "You're you. I promise. This is you." Hercules gave Iolaus' shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

Iolaus seemed to finally focus on him and he nodded, his breathing slowing back down. "Right. You're right. Um… sorry, I guess I just… freaked out for a second."

Hercules gave him an encouraging smile. "It's okay. I think that's to be expected." He took a breath. "That feeling in your arm? It's pain." Iolaus looked over at him and then back down at his arm. "You forgot, didn't you?"

"No," Iolaus said, a little too quickly. He looked away, down at the ground. "Maybe."

"You were dead a really long time, Iolaus. It wasn't like before, when you didn't really have a chance to get used to it." Hercules was dimly aware how absurd that would have sounded to any passerby, but to them, it had become normality. It was a disturbing thought.

They were quiet for a few minutes before Hercules put his hand on Iolaus' shoulder again. "Iolaus … it's going to get easier. Just, give yourself some time."

Iolaus waved him off. "No, I know… I know." He cleared his throat. "Sorry about back there. I should have been paying attention."

"Don't worry about it. Are you sure you're okay?"

"Sure I'm sure." He gave the demigod a half smile, as if the whole thing never happened. "Back for three days with a brand new body and I've already got a brand new scar."

Hercules snorted. "Yeah, well… you wouldn't really be you if you didn't find some way to hurt yourself," he chided, putting the medical supplies back in the pack. He gave Iolaus a grin, which Iolaus automatically returned. "Same old, same old, right?"

Iolaus knew he was kidding, but he couldn't stop the sudden wave of panic that enveloped him. This wasn't going to be the last time he got hurt, he realized. He was alive again. And people who were alive got hurt. Whether they tripped and fell down and skinned their knee, or whether they almost got their arms sliced off by bandits. It was going to happen, eventually. It's what always happened, especially in his line of business.

And next time it might be worse.

And if he could get hurt… that meant he could die.

Again.

He could feel Hercules' eyes on him and knew the demigod was still worried. And he knew Hercules well enough to know he was probably thinking the same thing himself.

Iolaus tried to look calm, pushing his fears and doubts away and hopping up off the ground. "You ready?" he asked, expectantly. He realized that he still had his blood on his fingertips and tried to unobtrusively wipe them off on his pants.

"Yeah. Are you sure you're okay?"

Iolaus nodded vigorously. "Yeah, yeah. I'm fine, really. I just need to get back into swing of things that's all. I'm fine, Herc."

That seemed to satisfy Hercules for the time being, and they gathered up their things and continued down the road toward whatever their next destination happened to be.

The next fight, Iolaus felt the same rush of excitement and adrenaline, but now there was something else – fear. He'd been afraid in fights before; deep down, he and Hercules were always afraid, but they just ignored it and fought anyway, because the importance of what they did was always much stronger than whatever could happen to them.

But this time, it was different. It was cold, and wormed its way into the back of Iolaus' mind to the point where it would invade his dreams, making him have visions of tombs and dark holes in the ground. For months he would wake in the middle of the night, shaking, unsure of where he was, and Hercules would have to remind him again and again that he was alive, that he was here, it was just a dream…

He was so tired that he'd started spacing out during the day. When they had gone after Xerxos and the demon had tried to strangle Hercules, he'd stood by too long and his reflexes were sluggish, resulting in a broken nose. He'd felt terrible for not paying enough attention, for not being quicker, even though if Xerxos could throw Hercules around like a rag doll there was definitely not much that Iolaus could have done about him either.

When Sin had appeared, Iolaus knew what she was, and she knew that he'd been to the Light. He'd tried to warn Hercules but every time he tried, the words got stuck in his throat. He knew it was her doing, and that seemed to snap Iolaus out of whatever bizarre funk he'd allowed himself to get into. He was never going to let anyone, or anything, control him again. He'd meant what he said about killing Hercules before the demigod damned himself, like Iolaus had. He was just very happy he hadn't had to go through with it.

When it was over, and Sin and Xerxos had gone back to Hell, he'd joked with Hercules, remarking how ugly he'd become when he'd been possessed.

"Yeah, well, you didn't look too hot either," Hercules had shot back.

"Yeah, but I was dead."

They had both laughed. Iolaus tried to act like everything was fine, everything was back to normal. Soon after they had split up for a few days, Iolaus insisting he had to go check on his long abandoned house.

"It _is_ still there, right?" Iolaus had asked Hercules.

The demigod was forced to admit he hadn't gone back there in the months after Dahak. "I thought you hated that place anyway."

He did hate it. He'd wished he'd just sold it long ago. He couldn't for the life of him figure out why he hadn't now. Or why he hadn't just burned it all down, like Hercules had done to his home after Deianeira and his children died. "I should at least make sure it's still standing, I guess. You know… check on the forge…"

He knew Hercules didn't believe a word of what he was saying, but he'd let him go, and Iolaus had instead gone to see Jason. He had to talk to somebody, and he couldn't bring himself to talk to Hercules. The whole thing with Sin had shaken him up, more than he wanted to admit, and he needed someone who would kick him in the ass and get his head on straight. Hercules had been walking on eggshells with him lately, and he couldn't stand it anymore.

The talk with Jason helped. The dreams stopped, the fear lessened. He and Hercules got back into their normal routine. He even let himself feel something for the Amazon Kayla, something he thought he wouldn't be able to do again after what had happened with Nebula. He had himself half convinced everything was going to be okay after all.

It wasn't until Dacia, when the vampire had bitten him, that the fear had come back in full force.

"Am I dead again?"

He'd said it to Hercules as a joke so that the demigod wouldn't worry, but a part of him was dreading the answer.

"No. You just lost a lot of blood."

He was freezing, and he could hear Vlad in his head, urging Iolaus to come to him, to feed, to rip and tear and he fought it with his entire being. _No_ , he thought, forcing the voice out of his mind. _No! I won't let you! Get out of my head!_ He'd pushed Vlad out, slammed his mind closed and fought, fought with all his might against whatever was trying to change him. He let himself feel a small amount of pride. Vlad was much easier than Dahak, and Galen, for all his smug superiority, hadn't been able to resist. But Iolaus would. He had to. He would resist forever, even if it killed him.

He could tell Hercules was trying to form some kind of plan but was too concerned about Iolaus to focus properly.

"Herc… don't give Vlad your blood," he said, firmly. Hercules still looked nervous, so he quipped, "Give it to me."

That had seemed to help, Hercules figuring if Iolaus could joke, then everything was going to turn out all right.

His mind was fuzzy in the effort of trying to keep Vlad at bay. The thought of losing Hercules kept him from slipping during the fight against the vampires, and then finally it was over. But Iolaus couldn't help feeling dirty, and violated. It had brought up too many memories; memories he thought he had successfully buried months ago.

Hercules had tried to talk to him about it, and Dahak, on the ship ride back to Greece but had Iolaus brushed it off, not wanting to go there. He made jokes about ingesting demigod blood instead. "Should have let me bite you, Herc. Who knows? Maybe it would have given me super powers."

Hercules grinned and ruffled his hair. "You don't need any super powers. I like you the way you are."

Bitter resentment. It crept up seemingly out of nowhere, and Iolaus quickly pushed it back down, horrified. _What the hell was that?_ His neck itched where the vampire had bitten him. Two more scars. At least those would be an interesting story.

Hercules was looking at him carefully, so he showed him the marks, laughed, and called them his "permanent hickeys". This got the expected eye roll from the demigod.

"Iolaus, your neck has probably been sucked on so many times I'm not surprised you don't have more 'permanent hickeys'."

 _That's because they're on my old body_ , he wanted to say, but bit his tongue. It would only upset Hercules. And he didn't want to upset Hercules.

When they'd gotten back to Greece, Iolaus threw himself into their work with reckless abandon. The dreams came back, so when Hercules wasn't around, he drank himself into a stupor to try and black out but they came anyway. He somehow managed to hide them from Hercules for a long time. He still didn't know how he had done it. Part of him thought it was because Hercules just didn't want to know. Something in their relationship had shifted since Iolaus had gotten back, and neither one of them were ready to admit it.

He had written a scroll to Gabrielle some time ago and had gotten one back, and he read it during the nights when Hercules had fallen asleep and the fear of nightmares was just too much. She told him about how she had felt after what had happened with Hope, how lost she had been. She urged him to go to India, like she had. _It will help you_ , she wrote. _It helped me. You need to find your path again, Iolaus._

He missed her terribly, and was horrified at everything she and Xena had gone through while Hercules had been travelling and he had been… gone. Gabrielle was the only other person who could understand what it was like. She'd had Hope, and he'd had Dahak. They were a sad pair, the two of them. Dahak's little fools.

He traveled. He fought. Iolaus would joke and lighten the mood. Hercules would smile and act like everything was fine. This was their new routine, and after the Titans and Hera and they had walked off into the sunset leaving a cursing Ares behind them, it had started to break Iolaus down. He'd become unable to push the dreams away, and he woke Hercules up in the night, screaming, like he'd done when he'd first come back. He'd absently rub his chest where the scar was supposed to be when Hercules wasn't looking, and when he felt nothing there, he would instead touch the two small scars in his neck from the vampire's teeth. He was alive, he was here. He didn't let Vlad take him, like Dahak had.

A few weeks before he'd left Greece, they had stopped in Athens for a festival. They'd had an incident in Thebes earlier in the week with some of the people that had been captured and tortured by Dahak, and it was still weighing on him. This was Hercules' attempt to try and get his mind off it. He'd been hesitant; crowds had started to bother him. But to his own surprise, he'd genuinely been having a good time. He was drinking, eating, flirting. Hercules had had to roughly pull him away from a gorgeous red head before her husband saw the two of them in the corner. He'd tried to insist he hadn't known she was married and Hercules just rolled his eyes, shoving Iolaus back into the courtyard and the throng of happy, drunk Athenians.

The crowds got bigger, and Iolaus got drunker, and as more and more people pressed into the main square Iolaus suddenly started having trouble breathing. The people's faces became blurred, took on different shapes. He shook his head and tried to take deeper breaths. Through his haze he saw the congregations at Dahak's temples, the masses of people that had flocked to him. No, not him. Dahak. Or was it him? He couldn't seem to remember. He could see people writhing in agony, clothes bloody and torn, screaming on the floor. There were pools of blood everywhere. More people, paying him tribute – more bodies, more blood, fire… fire and blood. There was fire everywhere.

He shut his eyes and pushed his hands against them in an effort to stop the torrent of images, and when he opened them again, he was back in Athens with people dancing around him. Everyone was happy. There was no blood, no fire, no piles of bodies. He pressed his hand to his chest where the scar was supposed to be. There was nothing there.

His heart kept pounding. His breath kept coming in shallow gasps. He couldn't breathe. It was hot, so hot and there were people, too many people, he had to get out of there. He could see Hercules across the square, apprehension etched across his features, but he didn't care. He had to get out before it was too late. Dahak was going to hurt these people, he had to get out!

Pounding in his chest, rushing in his ears, can't breathe, can't breathe… gods, what was happening?

He shoved people roughly out of his way as he ran back to the inn where they were staying, but instead of going inside, he ran into the barn, braced himself against the heavy wooden door and threw up into the dirt. Once that was done, he tried to get his breathing under control. Shaking, he recognized he'd just had a panic attack.

He'd had a panic attack in front of Hercules.

He'd hallucinated, had a panic attack in the middle of a festival, and Hercules had seen him. Not. Good.

Once he had finally gotten his breathing under control he walked back outside to the horse trough and scooped up a handful of water, throwing it on his face. It was icily cold, and the shock as it hit his cheeks helped bring him back into focus. He heard Hercules' familiar foot falls behind him and took a deep breath. "Hey," he said, not turning around. He didn't know how he was going to explain this one.

"Hey," Hercules replied, tentatively. "You want to tell me what happened back there?"

"I just needed some air," Iolaus muttered, scratching at his chest. He was staring at his reflection in the horse trough. "My scar is gone."

He could almost feel Hercules tense up behind him. "I know, Iolaus. We've been through this, when you first got back. Remember?"

He forced himself to nod and put his hand back down to his side. "Yeah."

Hercules took a few steps forward and turned Iolaus around to face him. "Iolaus… what's going on? You haven't exactly been yourself lately."

"It's nothing. Really. I just… it was just all a little too much, after what happened in Thebes…"

Hercules nodded sympathetically. "I'm sorry about that. I tried, when it was all over, to explain to everybody what had happened-"

 _He's apologizing. Again._ "Not your fault," Iolaus interrupted. "And I don't blame them."

Hercules put his hand on Iolaus' shoulder. "Are you sure you're okay? The dreams… this… I'm worried about you."

Iolaus really didn't want to talk about his nightmares outside a barn in the middle of Athens. And he really didn't want Hercules to keep looking at him with that sad look on his face. "You always worry," he joked, sliding his grin back into place. "Really, I'm fine. I'm just not ready for all that yet. I think I may just end up going to go to bed."

Hercules raised his eyebrows. "You're going to go to bed? Now?" He peered around Iolaus to inside the barn. "Alone?"

Iolaus regarded him with an insulted expression. "Yes," he said, shortly. "It's a rarity, but it has been known to happen." Then he smiled and pushed Hercules back towards the festival. "Now, _you_ on the other hand…"

"Iolaus…"

"…you should go back to the festival and have a _good time_ ," Iolaus continued as if the demigod hadn't spoken. "You know, have fun. You remember what fun is?"

"I'm not leaving you here in the barn while I go out partying."

Iolaus snorted. "When was the last time you partied?"

"I party," Hercules mumbled unconvincingly.

"With who? Salmoneus? Go! Go, go, go!" Iolaus made shooing motions with his hands while Hercules just stared at him incredulously.

"Iolaus, I'm not leaving you here."

"Why not? I'm _fine_ , I just can't deal with all that excitement right now, but _you_ can, so go!" He pushed Hercules again, laughing. "Go! Maybe you'll get laid, the gods know you need it."

Hercules playfully swatted him on the arm. "Very funny."

"Who knows, it may loosen you up a little bit, stop you from worrying about me all the time. Go. I'll be okay. I'm just not ready yet. I still need some time."

"I'm _not_ leaving," Hercules repeated forcefully.

 _Dammit, Herc, you don't make anything easy…_

"I could use some sleep, too," the demigod was saying. They could still hear the sounds of raucous laughter and dancing music, and he rolled his eyes. "But, I doubt we'll be getting a good night's sleep tonight regardless."

"All the more reason for you to go back to the festival..." Iolaus trailed off, seeing the look on Hercules' face. "Or, all the more reason for us to head to bed early."

"Iolaus," the demigod said cautiously, "I wish you would just talk to me about whatever has been bothering you."

 _If I tell you, you'll think I'm crazy. Or you'll just apologize to me again, for going to Sumeria. Or you'll look at me with that face, that horrible, sad, pitying face…_ "I keep telling you, it's _nothing_. Let's just go to bed."

"What happened out there wasn't nothing."

"Herc, _please_!" Iolaus snapped angrily, rubbing a hand over his face. "Will you just let it go already?" He sighed at the hurt that flashed in the demigod's eyes. "Sorry. I'm just really tired, that's all. I don't want to talk about it right now." He could tell Hercules really wanted to push him, and a small part of him almost wanted him to. Maybe they needed a good screaming match, maybe he _should_ tell Hercules all the things that he'd been keeping locked up, maybe…

"Okay, Iolaus," Hercules said, resignedly. "If that's what you want."

For a moment Iolaus was actually shocked. He couldn't believe the demigod had given up so easily. Blinking, he said, numbly, "Yes. That's what I want."

Hercules made a move like he was about to put his hand on Iolaus' shoulder again, but hesitated. He had hurt his friend's feelings. He could tell. So, why wasn't Hercules pressing him more?

"I'll meet you back at the inn?" Hercules asked, uncertainly. He looked Iolaus over again, waiting for him to respond.

"Yeah." Iolaus nodded. "Give me a sec and I'll be there." _Why won't you argue with me? I'm not going to break, I'm not like the other one…_

Hercules nodded shortly and then turned and walked off towards the adjoining building, leaving Iolaus confused and alone. He didn't know how long he stood there, but sometime in between watching Hercules walk away and when he finally trudged into their room and collapsed into the bed, Iolaus had made the decision.

He didn't sleep at all that night. He laid in bed, staring at the inn's shoddy ceiling, listening to the rhythm of Hercules' breathing mixed in with the sounds of the drums and flutes from the town center where the party was still going strong.

He was going to have to leave. He couldn't keep doing this. Not to Hercules, and not to himself. And he couldn't keep lying to himself either, pretending that he hadn't changed, that everything that had happened – in Thebes and Dacia, and with Sin and Xerxos, and the horror that was Sumeria – hadn't done something to him. He couldn't pretend he was better anymore.

Because he wasn't better. He wasn't better at all.

And he truly didn't know if he ever would be.


	2. Chapter One

_This is where we start getting into more of an M rating... so fair warning. Lots of angst ahead. Lots and lots of angst._

 _Also, please don't forget to head over to Inkitt and vote for Book One of "Legendary" in the Fanfiction writing contest!_

* * *

 **Chapter One**

 **Then - Iolaus**

The pain in his chest forced him to open his eyes. He blinked, vision coming into focus, and glanced around in confusion, trying to figure out where he was. The air was stale and reeked of death. Everything was dark, but he had a strange sensation that even though he could barely make out his surroundings, he had somehow been here before.

He tried to sit up but it made the pain in his chest worse. He put his hand to it, and then it pulled back just as quickly. There was something wet and hot, making his vest stick to his skin. Blood? He gingerly touched his chest again and felt a gaping hole over his heart. _Oh gods… this isn't happening._

With a wave of panic, he again tried to sit up, but this time he hit his head on solid rock. _No_ , he thought desperately. _No,_ _this isn't real. It can't be real…_

He knew where he was now. This was Sumeria, he was dead, and this was his tomb. _But, I'm not dead_ , his mind insisted. _I'm not dead, this is a mistake…_ He tried to push the lid off the tomb but it was too heavy, refusing to budge. His breath came in quicker gasps, making his chest cream in agony. He was trapped, he was trapped in here, they had left him in here. Hercules… where was Hercules? _He wouldn't leave me in here…_

He started thrashing, kicking, beating the lid in pure fear, screaming for someone to let him out, this wasn't right, he wasn't dead, this was all a mistake, he _wasn't_ dead, oh gods please, no, no, _no!_

"No!" Iolaus cried out loud, sitting up in the hammock. He was so startled by the drastic change in scenery that he almost toppled out of it and onto the wooden floor of the ship below. He gripped the ropes on either side and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to get himself under control. _Just a dream. You were dreaming. You're not in Sumeria. You're not dead. You're on a ship._ It was the same mantra he'd had to repeat to himself every time he had woke for the last week. _Persia. You're going to Persia, remember?_

He jumped as someone placed a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, man…. You okay?" The brown eyes of Pax, one of the ship's deckhands, were looking him over in concern.

Iolaus swallowed and nodded stiffly. "Yep."

"You going to throw up again?"

 _I hope not._ He didn't think he had anything else left in his stomach _to_ throw up. "I don't think so."

Pax nodded and squeezed his shoulder gently. "Look, I know you got some problems, but… you're starting to freak the other guys out. They can hear you sometimes…" He trailed off, looking uncomfortable, not wanting to embarrass Iolaus any further.

"Sorry," Iolaus muttered, collapsing back into the hammock in a heap. He put an arm over his eyes to block out the sun that was creeping through the small cracks below deck. "What time is it?"

"Midday," Pax told him.

 _Shit._ Iolaus lifted his arm just enough to give Pax an incredulous look. "How long was I asleep?"

The deckhand shrugged. "A while. What time did you take that apollinarix?"

Iolaus frowned, trying to force his foggy brain to start working. "Sometime in between the fifth or sixth mug of ale, I think." He caught Pax giving him a disapproving look. "What?"

"You need to be careful with that stuff. Too much of it will kill you."

"I'm aware of that. I've used it before. Medicinally," he added when Pax didn't look reassured.

"Look, you're a grown ass man, and I respect what you and Hercules do, and you've done more than your fair share of the work around here…"

"But?" Iolaus prompted, shortly. The sound of Hercules' name still shot little waves of grief and regret through him.

Pax sighed, shifting uncomfortably. "But you gotta get it together until we get to Persia. I thought maybe the apollinarix would help-"

"It didn't. Nothing does." Iolaus pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes and groaned in exhaustion. He had hoped to be off the ship by now. There were no merchant vessels going out Corinth to Thrace, so he'd just had to head straight for Persia, which was always touch and go, depending on whether or not the Greeks and the Persians were on good terms that month. Or that day. It saved Iolaus a lot of walking and caravan riding time, but he had wanted to travel alone for exactly this reason. Sailors were notoriously suspicious, and he knew that his night terrors were not doing anything to reassure the crew that having him on board was the best idea.

"You only got two more days," Pax told him, trying to sound encouraging. "We're making good time."

Iolaus rolled off the hammock and stumbled to standing. Pax tried to grab his arm but he waved him off. "I'll just… sleep in the hold until we get there, or something. I don't want to disturb anybody."

"The guys like you. They do," he added at Iolaus' dubious look. "You're game for a laugh and work hard, and they know who you are, what you do. Or… did do. Don't take it personally?"

Iolaus gave the younger man a reassuring pat on the back. "It's okay, Pax. Gimme a second and I'll be up top."

Pax nodded and skirted around Iolaus to head over to the stairs that lead above deck. Once he was gone, Iolaus had to lean against one of the walls to keep himself steady. Closing his eyes, he forced the wave of nausea back down and grimaced as it made his stomach cramp. The side effects of black henbane were well documented, and he'd seen enough wounded soldiers spend most of their waking hours puking their guts out in the nearest bush for days after being treated with it. He should have known better. Especially when he'd asked Pax how in the hell he'd gotten it.

"Stole it," Pax had told him, conspiratorially. "My girlfriend is a handmaiden at one of Apollo's temples. It can, uh… make things fun, you know?"

Iolaus knew. But he didn't want fun, he wanted to be unconscious. Just beautiful, black nothingness for a while. Opium wasn't going to cut it, and he was going to have to wait until Persia to get his hands on it anyway. So he'd thought, _Why the hell not,_ and had gratefully accepted whatever Pax had on his person.

Iolaus snorted. Now here this kid was telling him to be careful when he used henbane to get high with his girlfriend before they had sex all over Apollo's temple floor. He'd experimented with drugs before when he was younger - back in the gangs and very briefly in his first stint to the East after Anya had died - but it was something he had never told anyone, not even Hercules. But using henbane was risky enough when you were treating someone for pain. He'd seen it almost kill men the demigod's size because they'd been dosed too much. What had he been thinking?

His insides twisted as another cramp came on and he doubled over, dry heaving. He could feel all of the ale he'd drowned himself in the night before threatening to come back up and he tried, again, to swallow it back down. It was bad enough he was screaming and waking everyone up in the middle of the night. He was not going to lose any more of his credibility by looking like he couldn't hold his alcohol.

 _Right. No more fucking around with henbane._ Iolaus laughed bitterly to himself. He could only imagine what Hercules would do or say if he could see him now. The thought at how far gone he'd gotten in the last week, and what the demigod would say about it, made him want to throw up again. He was glad there were no reflective glasses on board save in the captain's quarters; he doubted that even he could stand the sight of himself right now.

Iolaus wondered, not for the first time, if he'd made the right decision. So far, leaving Greece hadn't done much in the way of helping him combat his dreams. In fact, they'd gotten worse, and he was so terrified that he would have another episode like he'd had at Jason's and accidentally throw himself overboard that he'd tried anything and everything to black out each night. The first few times that he'd woken up he couldn't remember where he was or how he'd gotten there, and had looked around expectantly for Hercules before his frightened mind calmed down enough to recognize the mess deck of the _Revival_. Once that passed he would feel shaky, sick, and alone. Hercules wasn't here; Iolaus had left him standing numbly in the front yard of his childhood home. Now he didn't even have his best friend to turn to, which ironically was what he thought he wanted – to be able to figure out what was happening to him, alone. And yet, the first person he looked for when he woke up was Hercules.

Iolaus took a gulp of air and forced himself to stand upright. _It's habit_ , he told himself. _It'll pass. Pax said two more days? I can make it two more days._ He nodded forcefully to himself. _Just get to the East. They'll help you. They have to._

He could hear the sounds of the men working above deck and inwardly groaned. He was going to have to go up there and get to work at some point. With some effort, he pushed himself off of the wall, clumsily shoved his feet into his boots, and trudged slowly across the room to the mess hall where he persuaded the cook to give him some ginger root to try and settle his stomach. He gnawed on it absently as he climbed the stairs to the main deck, the day's sun hitting him full blast and making him squeeze his eyes shut. Blinking, he used the railing to haul himself up the rest of the way. He could feel there was a good wind, so they probably were making decent time as Pax had said. It made him feel a little bit better knowing that the kid wasn't just giving him lip service.

He popped the last piece of ginger into his mouth and forced himself to chew, glancing around and locating Pax towards the stern, tying off the ropes to the aft sails. He caught Iolaus' eye and waved. Iolaus raised an eyebrow and attempted to wave back, making Pax laugh and shake his head at him before getting back to work. Iolaus gave a heavy sigh. _This is going to be a really annoying day._ He tried to ignore the disgruntled looks he was getting as he headed aft to join Pax. Iolaus didn't blame them. He'd be pissed too if he was giving someone a free ride and they thought they could sleep all day.

He'd barely made it two steps when a familiar voice rang out, "Iolaus!"

He winced and turned to slowly face the bridge where the captain was staring down at him, a grim look on his face. He crooked a finger at Iolaus, motioning him up to the ship's wheel. _Great_ , Iolaus thought wearily, and made his way across the deck and up more stairs to stand next to the captain. "Epeius," he greeted him. He tried to sound pleasant but he wasn't sure he entirely succeeded.

Epeius gave Iolaus a once over before gesturing to the door behind them. "Step into my office."

Iolaus suddenly felt like he was back at the Academy, having been caught doing one of the many things he knew he wasn't supposed to do, and was now being hauled in to see Cheiron. His heart sped up nervously, and he almost laughed at how quickly those memories elicited the same response he'd gotten back then. But he merely gave Epeius a short nod and followed the captain into his quarters, shutting the door behind him.

The captain's quarters were modest, but they contained a cot, wash basin, reflective glass, and a small writing desk at which Epeius was now sitting behind. "Take a seat," he told Iolaus, gesturing at the stool that was placed in front of it.

Iolaus ran a hand through his hair and obliged. This was sounding an awful lot like what happened _after_ he got into Cheiron's office, too. He made sure to avoid looking over at the mirror as he sat heavily onto the stool. "I know what you're going to say-"

"Do you?" Epeius asked, casually.

Iolaus blinked, not sure how to respond. "Uh… maybe?"

Epeius stared at him across the desk for a few seconds, making Iolaus swallow anxiously. "When I agreed to let you come on board, it was under explicit instructions that you earn your keep. Which you've done," he said, putting a hand up as Iolaus made to argue. "But… I need everyone at their best, Iolaus."

Unable to resist, Iolaus raised one shoulder in a shrug and asked, "Do I not look my best?"

Epeius let some of his annoyance cross his face. "Iolaus, I'm being serious."

"I know that. And… I'm sorry. I'm trying."

"Do you consider taking henbane while aboard my ship 'trying'?" Epeius asked, flatly. Before Iolaus could answer, the captain sighed and rubbed his hand across his face tiredly. "Look, Iolaus… you and Hercules have been a big help to me in the past, which is why I said you could hitch a ride as long as you worked, because I didn't think it was going to be an issue."

"It's not," Iolaus insisted. "I just needed something to try and sleep."

"Yes, I've heard." The captain let that hang in the air before asking, "Did Pax give it to you?" Iolaus immediately grew silent. "I thought so."

"He's a good kid," Iolaus told him quickly. "He was just trying to help. It's not going to happen again, I can promise you."

Epeius just stared at him some more, and Iolaus could tell he was trying his damnedest not to sound judgmental. "Like I was saying, I need everyone at their best. Everyone on point. I can't have a member of my crew stumbling around in a daze, because that's what you are until we make port in Persia, Iolaus. You're one of my men, and I care about my men."

"It's not going to happen again," Iolaus repeated forcefully.

"And I also can't have my crew pissing and moaning about how blondie gets to sleep in and do what he wants," Epeius added.

Iolaus fixed him with a hard look. "I _said_ … it wasn't going to happen again."

Epeius grunted an acknowledgement but didn't seem entirely convinced. "Just answer me one thing, Iolaus." When the hunter gave him a short nod, he asked, bluntly, "Do you want to die? Is that why you're stuffing henbane and ale down your throat? Are you on some kind of suicide kick?"

Iolaus snorted and shook his head. "No," he said in wry amusement. "No, I don't want to die."

The captain nodded at him firmly. "Good. Because there's nothing more dangerous on a ship than a walking dead man."

The statement almost made Iolaus laugh out loud. _Walking dead man…_ "I've been one of those before," he said, seriously. "And I don't want to do it again. So, stop worrying." The look Epeius was giving him clearly said the captain hadn't truly been worried, until now. _Nice going._ _You really need to start keeping your morbid sense of humor to yourself, pal._ "Seriously, don't worry. Learned my lesson. And I'm not trying to disrupt how you run your ship. I appreciate you helping me out. You know that, right?" He forced the words out, because he knew they were the right thing to say.

"Of course," Epeius said, evenly. "I wasn't… well, I wasn't in Greece, when all that crazy shit went down with…" He gestured wildly and Iolaus averted his gaze. "Yeah… So, I know this isn't you. Not the real you. I've seen you in action."

"I get it, Epeius."

The captain nodded again, shortly. "I just had to make sure." He waved at the washing bin and mirror. "Why don't you have a shave, get cleaned up…? Might make you feel better."

Iolaus scratched at his beard. "Is that a hint?"

Epeius shrugged. "Maybe," he said, getting up and heading back over to the door. "Do what you want. Come back out when you're done and see Cirio down in the hold."

Iolaus started, spinning on the stool to stare at the captain. "Cirio? What about Pax?"

"I think you two have spent enough time together," Epeius said, firmly.

Iolaus felt the sudden urge to yell that he didn't need to be treated like a child but bit his tongue, settling for a glare instead. He was getting a free ride, this was Epeius' ship, and he hadn't done much this morning in the way of convincing everyone that he was fit to work above deck. "Cirio. Hold. Got it."

The captain gave another curt nod and stepped out, leaving Iolaus alone. He clenched his fists in attempt to control his temper, the feel of his nails digging into his palms inducing enough pain to snap him out of it. He couldn't blame Epeius, but he could damn well blame himself. "I know this isn't you. Not the real you," Epeius had said. Iolaus snorted. _You have no idea…_

He ran a hand over his face, feeling the weeks' worth of hair and sighed, disgusted with himself. No, this wasn't him. None of it was. And he couldn't sit alone in the captain's quarters feeling sorry for himself. Being busy on the ship kept his mind off things. It was just at night, when he would lay there staring at the deck head, listening to the waves and the creaking of the ship as it made its way along, that the terrible thoughts would come. And then, if he'd managed to fretfully get to sleep, they'd follow him into his dreams.

Iolaus pushed the bench back and walked over to the washing bin, digging around in the small cupboard next to it for shaving supplies. When he finally glanced up at the reflective glass, he almost didn't recognize himself. He'd lost a lot of weight in a week, probably due to not being able to keep his stomach once the dreams woke him up. His hair was a disheveled mess, more so than usual, and he was pale and drawn. Walking dead man indeed.

He didn't know why he was taking Epeius up on his offer, but really didn't want to spend any more time with Cirio than he had to, and frankly, he couldn't think of anything else better to do. Maybe if he looked normal, he could at least attempt to act normal, for the time being anyway.

Iolaus found the flint razor and jar of whale fat, and poured a small amount of the captain's water store into the basin. He picked up the razor and stared at it, as if unsure of what to do. Something as simple and mundane as shaving suddenly felt ridiculous. He studied himself in the reflective glass - the lines around his eyes, the dark blond hair on his face, following the trail it took from the curve of his jaw and down his neck. Epeius asking if he had a death wish reminded him of his talk with Jason at the Academy almost a year ago. His friend had asked him a similar question then as well. Iolaus remembered being shocked by it at the time, insisting that Jason was acting crazy, reading too much into things. Now… it just made him laugh.

He swallowed, checking the sharpness of the razor. That talk with Jason felt like a lifetime ago. He'd wished, at the time, that he'd gone to him sooner. He wished, maybe instead, that he should have found some way to talk to Hercules. He wished a lot of things. He could almost hear Jason in his head now, telling him everything was going to be okay, that _he_ was okay, that it was all going to work out…

He felt his hand tightening around the razor's handle and closed his eyes against a sudden wave of despair. He wanted nothing more than to put his fist through the glass so he wouldn't have to look at himself anymore. He figured that probably wouldn't be the best idea. He and Epeius knew each other, but they weren't exactly friends, and smashing up the captain's quarters would just land him in the brig. Iolaus pondered that. At least then he'd be alone.

 _Not worth it_ , he told himself firmly, and dug around some more in the small cupboard until he located a sandstone and began methodically sharpening the flint. Once he was satisfied, he scooped out a glob of the whale fat and smeared it over his face and neck and got to work. The scrape of the flint against his skin, the sound the excess made as he flicked his wrist and it splatted against the copper basin, was oddly therapeutic. He forced himself to focus on what he was doing, watching each piece of hair as it came off on the razor, drowning everything else out, almost as if he was in a state of meditation. This was the closest he'd been able to come to it in recent months, and for a moment, it actually gave him the smallest, teensiest amount of peace.

But only for a moment, as he again thought back to that day at the Academy, and he could hear all the things Jason had told him, echoing in his head…

* * *

 **Nine Months Earlier**

The kids were in an uproar.

Jason threw the scroll he was reading back down onto his desk in irritation and pushed his chair back, walking across his office to peer out the window. _What in the hell have they gotten themselves into now?_ The smaller ones were crowding around someone over by the gate, someone with curly blond hair…

It took Jason a moment to actually figure out what he was seeing. Hercules had written to him, but actually seeing him was a different story. He was here, _really_ here…

Jason ran out of his office and down the halls of the Academy, startling some of the older students, who had never seen their new headmaster move so fast outside of sparring practice.

By the time he'd made it into and across the yard, Iolaus was busy disentangling himself from the gaggle of younger cadets. "Sing, sing!" they were chanting.

"Tell us a joke!" another called out.

"Where's your funny hat?" asked another.

Iolaus was baffled. He glanced up as Jason came jogging over, the look on his face clearly saying, _Help me_.

 _Oh, no_ , Jason thought, his elation quickly evaporating. _They think he's the other one…_ "Come on, kids!" he ordered, trying to shoo them away. "Give the man some air."

All the kids groaned in displeasure. "But, we want to see some tricks!" a young boy complained. "Can you juggle for us again?"

Iolaus sputtered, wide eyed, at a complete loss for words, and kept looking at Jason for some kind of explanation. "I'm sorry, I don't know what you're talking about…" He stared at the former king expectantly.

Jason grimaced. _I'm going to_ kill _Hercules_. "Kids, go back inside. I know who he looks like, but…" The second the words were out of his mouth, comprehension dawned on Iolaus' face. His friend looked so shocked, so hurt, that it felt like someone had reached in and squeezed Jason's heart. "Just… go back inside everyone, that's an order."

The kids moped and moaned, but still obeyed, traipsing across the yard and into the main building. Iolaus watched them go, that same look on his face. Jason didn't know what to say. "Sorry" just didn't seem appropriate. Most of his apprehension melted away when Iolaus turned back to face him and Jason looked at him, _really_ looked at him, as if unable to believe he was standing there.

"Jason, what the hell was-" Iolaus began but he was cut off as Jason grabbed his arm and pulled him into a bear hug. Iolaus felt the breath get pushed out of his lungs from the force of it.

"It's you?" Jason murmured into Iolaus' hair. " _Really_ you?" He sounded like he was afraid that if he let go, Iolaus would suddenly vanish into thin air.

Iolaus pushed everything else aside for the moment and gripped Jason's arms, pulling back so he could look him in the eyes. "Yeah, it's me, Jason. I know Herc wrote to you, but I… I had to come see you, to tell you in person."

"My gods… I honestly thought he'd lost it, when I got the scroll. But… I figured if anyone could do it, he could."

Iolaus' brow furrowed. "Do what?"

"Get you back somehow," Jason told him. Iolaus looked confused again. "What?"

"He didn't tell you? The whole story, I mean." Iolaus looked back over his shoulder, where the younger cadets had disappeared to, and then around the yard where some of the older students were now looking more interested. "I guess that makes two of us," he muttered, darkly.

Jason sighed. "He didn't go into detail. Just the usual. You know… fate of the world, apocalyptic stuff. Said that somehow you managed to get out of wherever you were to help him, and that you were back for good. I just figured…" Jason trailed off. "He probably wanted you to tell me the story in person. It _is_ your story, after all."

"Right," Iolaus said, noncommittally. "Why does everyone keep staring at me?"

"Oh," Jason said, numbly. "Um… about that… When Hercules came here last, he brought… well…" Jason felt immediately awkward. _Gods, Hercules, what the hell?_ He didn't know what Iolaus knew and what he didn't know, but he saved Jason from having to give the hardest blow by saying, "He brought the jester, didn't he? They think I'm him."

 _Okay, so he at least knows that much._ "Yeah… Hercules helped him out, when he brought him over here. Tried to get him more acclimated. They traveled around together…" Iolaus whipped his head back around to stare at Jason, who immediately shut his mouth and stared at the ground.

"He… he traveled around with him? Introduced him to you? To… everybody?" When Jason didn't answer, Iolaus clenched his jaw and stared off in the general direction of the barracks. "Lilith?" he asked, quietly.

"Yeah, she was here. And Seska… he told you about Seska, right?"

That seemed to snap Iolaus out of his bad mood for a moment. "Yes! Gods, yes… Seska! I almost forgot. That's amazing!"

Jason shrugged and gave his friend a small smile. "Yeah, I think she's pretty great. She's off with her mom now."

Iolaus gave him a knowing look. "You and Lilith… We all knew, you know. Hard not to, what with all that carrying on at night-"

"Okay, smart ass. Don't even get me started on all the times you woke me and everyone else up stumbling into the bunks, regaling us all with tales of your wild nights."

Iolaus grinned at him. "Hey, they were worth regaling." He noticed that they seemed to be drawing more attention to themselves and immediately sobered. "So… does everyone here think I'm him?"

"The older kids know you from the stories. They were more confused by the other one, but they got used to him. Now I think they're just confused again." Iolaus was looking more and more angry by the second, so Jason cleared his throat and steered him toward the gates. "How about you and I go into Corinth? Get some ale, talk, catch up? I want to hear about what happened with these Horsemen and how the hell you got back here."

Iolaus didn't seem to hear him. "This is new," he said, quietly.

Jason's brow furrowed. "What's new?"

"This feeling. People usually just forget about me. But this… it feels like… I've been erased."

Jason had no good response for that so he wisely said nothing, and instead tried again to push Iolaus towards the entrance. "Come on… I'll explain everything. But, we're both going to need a drink."

* * *

A few hours later, Jason was pushing himself back through the crowds over to the table Iolaus was saving for them, two full mugs in his hands.

"I'm sorry that Hercules didn't tell you. He's always got his mind on the bigger things that he forgets sometimes about smaller, just as important things," Jason said, sitting back down and pushing one of the ales at Iolaus. The other man was gazing across the tavern and didn't seem to have heard him, so Jason prodded his hand lightly with the mug. Iolaus turned back to face him.

"Thanks," he said, taking the drink. "No, he did. He told me… sort of. And I could see what was going on from the Light. Sort of."

Jason could tell he was being deliberately evasive. "He wasn't trying to replace you, Iolaus. You know he could never do that. _Would_ never," he amended.

Iolaus nodded in a way that made Jason think he wasn't entirely convinced. "Yeah… so… how are things?"

Jason narrowed his eyes. "You came all the way here to tell me you aren't dead and ask how the Academy is? I don't think so." He took a gulp of his own drink, eyeing Iolaus suspiciously over the rim. "Let's have it."

Iolaus shrugged. "I told you. I wanted to see you. Tell you about what happened, in person." Iolaus had explained what had transpired a few months prior with Michael and the Four Horsemen, how he had snuck out of the Light to warn Hercules, and how he'd been sent back to Earth to rejoin the demigod once it was all over. Jason had been stunned, especially to hear Iolaus talk about this Light place. It sounded like paradise, better than all the stories of the Elysian Fields, which he had honestly thought was just about as good as it gets once you were dead. Apparently they had all been severely misinformed. _Leave it to Hades to hold out on us_ , Jason thought, wryly.

"Is it so hard to believe that I just wanted to give the news of me being very much alive to one of my best friends in person?" Iolaus asked, but he could tell Jason wasn't buying it. He drummed his fingers on the table as Jason leaned back against his seat, waiting patiently. _Well, come on… this is what you came here for. To talk to Jason. So… talk, idiot._ "Okay, so… maybe that's not all."

"Shocker," Jason deadpanned.

"Are you going to listen or crack jokes?" When Jason looked properly mollified, Iolaus continued, "To be honest, I've had kind of a hard time… readjusting." At Jason's look, Iolaus gestured vaguely. "You know… to being back." Nothing. _Zeus on Olympus, do I have to spell this out?_ "To being alive again, Jason."

"I got that. I'm just trying to make some sense out of it. You've been home now for, what… three, four months? And… you came to see me now? I'm just surprised that you didn't go to Hercules, that's all. Unless, you have already."

Iolaus gave a quick shake of the head. "I wanted to come earlier but, you know how it goes with us… we got busy. And no, I haven't talked to Herc. Not about this. It's hard for me to talk to him about this stuff, I dunno…" He trailed off and rubbed a hand over his face wearily. "I haven't been sleeping well. Neither of us have. I _want_ to talk to him, but, you know how he gets. He's got a lot to worry about."

"He does that to himself," Jason said, shrugging. "He's your best friend. You can tell him anything. And you can tell _me_ anything, too. So… what's on your mind?"

Iolaus stared into his cup. He wanted desperately to get some of these things off his chest, but at the same time, he was reluctant to say them out loud. Jason waited while he gathered his thoughts. _Well… here goes nothing._ "This whole thing with being back. I was okay, at first. Everything felt so new and bright and… alive. But…" He swallowed, as if trying to find the will to continue. "I started remembering."

Jason had an idea of what Iolaus meant, but he asked anyway. "Remembering what?"

"Things. Things I'd done. Things Dahak made me do. Like what I did to you." He looked up at Jason then, and the Argonaut was startled to see a well of pain in Iolaus' eyes. "I still need to apologize to you for that, by the way."

"Apologize for what? That wasn't you. I know that now. The thing put on a pretty convincing show though, let me tell you what. It had us all fooled. I should be apologizing to _you_ , for not recognizing that something was wrong." Iolaus was still staring at him sadly. "Iolaus… that wasn't you," Jason insisted. "You were trapped in there but it wasn't _you_ , out here. Don't do this to yourself."

"Can't help it. I can see it, when I close my eyes, almost like it was me. I can see everything, Jason." Iolaus closed his eyes and shook his head, as if willing away the very images he was speaking of. "And this thing recently with Sin, and how Hercules took her power to defeat Xerxos. It… brought a lot of that back. I could see it… the way it was changing him. The way I let Dahak change me, in that place. I let him manipulate me, and I let him in. Let him into the world, let him almost destroy my home…"

Now Jason understood why Iolaus was reluctant to talk to Hercules. After Dahak had been forced out of Iolaus' body and Nebula and Morrigan had helped him out of the temple, Hercules had relayed all of the things Dahak had told him about Iolaus and then proceeded to vehemently deny all of it. "He's at peace now," he had said. "That thing can't hurt him anymore. Can't twist everything Iolaus stood for anymore." He'd hemmed and hawed for days about what to do with the body. "That's not Iolaus. That thing used his body, made it something… else." In the end Jason had convinced him to bury it anyway, as therapy. And then Hercules went about trying to clear Iolaus' name from Corinth to Athens and beyond.

Jason wasn't sure himself how Dahak had managed to possess his friend and was inclined to believe Hercules, until Nebula and Morrigan had gotten into an argument about it before Hercules had gone off with the Eirish woman to Cyprus.

"What was all that about?" he had asked Nebula as Morrigan had stalked off. She glared over at him, eyes smoldering, before muttering, "Nothing." The next day she packed up and headed back to Sumeria without even saying goodbye.

Jason waited to tell Hercules about what he'd overheard until the demigod had returned from Cyprus – how Morrigan had insisted that Iolaus was the one that had let Dahak in, that it was Iolaus' fault to begin with. Hercules, already heartbroken and angry at Morrigan anyway, had argued with Jason profusely over it to the point that the former king just let the whole thing go so as not to put a rift in their friendship. Iolaus was dead, gone, and at peace. There was no use arguing about the specifics.

But now Iolaus was back, and it was clear that all the things that had happened to his friend were still haunting him. And, judging by the way Hercules had reacted when Jason had tried to bring Dahak up all those months ago, and the almost blasé way he had told Jason about the Horsemen and Iolaus being back, the demigod was not in the best place yet himself, either. "You made a mistake, Iolaus," Jason told him. "It's all right. You're human. We're all human. Human's make mistakes."

Iolaus smiled a little bitterly. "Not all of us are human," he said quietly, as if to himself.

Something like an alarm bell went off in Jason's head, but he didn't know quite what to say at first so he just sipped his ale. "So," he said, casually, after a beat, "this is about him then. You two get into a fight?"

"No, nothing like that. I almost _wish_ we'd gotten into a fight. Herc's been more laid back than usual. Not his normal nosey self, you know?" Iolaus shrugged. "I think he's just trying to… I dunno, brush things off, make up for lost time. Things that would normally get a rise out of him don't work anymore. It's like he's afraid to get angry with me."

"Oh," Jason said, shifting uncomfortably. "That. Uh… well, you're probably right about making up for lost time, but it may also be because of-"

"The other one?" Iolaus interrupted. "Yeah, I thought of that, too."

"He was having a really shit time, Iolaus," Jason said, apologetically. "Whatever he did or didn't do back then… I kind of put it in a bucket labeled temporary insanity and leave it at that."

"I'm worried about him," Iolaus said, softly. Jason glanced up to see him staring into the ale, his brow furrowed. "Something Sin had said… about there being anger in Hercules, and that one day, it would come out. It made me think of… when I wasn't around."

"You could see all that?" Jason asked.

He tried to sound nonchalant, but Iolaus could tell that what he had said disturbed him, just like it always disturbed Hercules when he tried to talk about being in the Light. He thought he would at least be able to talk to Jason about this. Jason had dealt with demons – personal ones – when Medea had killed his family. The two of them went back almost as far as he and Hercules did, and there had always been some kind of unspoken bond between them. The two mortals who got to hang out with the son of Zeus. Iolaus and Jason had never become as close as he and Hercules had, but Jason was still like family. If he didn't have Jason to talk to, he felt like he didn't have anyone. And he couldn't talk to Hercules. Not about this.

Iolaus shrugged, trying to brush it off. "Dahak showed me some stuff," he said, flippantly. "I saw him in that place… Eire? When Morrigan was beating him up." He shook his head. "He didn't care. I think… I think he wanted to die. He wanted her to kill him." Iolaus sighed. "I don't even know if I really saw what I saw. Dahak liked to twist things around, make me see things that were real but not, to try and get me to… you know." He cleared his throat and Jason patiently waited for him to continue. "I dunno… what Sin said about him having that darkness inside got me thinking. What if she's right? What if she's right about all of us? You, Hercules… me."

"I'm going to stop you right there," Jason said, sharply. "I know what you're doing. What happened with Dahak wasn't your fault." Iolaus snorted derisively, making the former king frown. "I'm being serious, Iolaus. Like I said… you're human. No one's perfect. If it had been anyone else, they would have caved long before you did. They may not have been able to fight as hard as you did, and Hercules wouldn't have been able to save them, and we'd all be dead right now. Dead, or slaves of Dahak for eternity."

"Food," Iolaus corrected, bluntly, making Jason blink. "Sorry." He had to learn to stop doing that. Sometimes it was just better not to know.

"It's okay," Jason said, slowly, his drink forgotten. "This thing with Sin… Hercules letting her in his head… is that really what brought all this on?"

"It brought up some stuff," Iolaus admitted, "yeah. But, I felt like this before all that happened."

"Does he know?"

"I can't talk to him about this," Iolaus reiterated. "You know how he is, how he gets. I don't want to upset him. He's… we've… well, we've just both been through a lot."

Jason couldn't argue with that. "You know, it's kind of ironic that here you are, back from the dead, back from all that's happened to you, and you're sitting here worried about Hercules."

Iolaus grunted. "Yeah. Well, I'm messed up that way, Jason. It's part of my innate charm."

"You're not messed up, Iolaus," Jason insisted, sharply. "You're just a person that's had a lot of messed up things happen to them. You're a good man… one of the best I know. You let yourself think like this, and that thing wins."

"Anyway," Iolaus said, clearing his throat, "I've been trying to joke around, you know? Trying not to think about all of it. But the dreams… the dreams, Jason…"

Jason put a hand on Iolaus' arm. "I've been there. Not like this, but… I used to see their bodies. My kids. Every time I shut my eyes…"

Both men stared into their drinks. Not for the first time, Iolaus felt like cursing the gods and the Fates. All three of them – Jason, Hercules, and Iolaus – had experienced such great and terrible losses. Even Iphicles, with the death of Rena. It wasn't right or fair. _The thanks you get for being a hero_ , Dahak had tormented him. _You taunt the gods, you put your lives on the line, and everyone ends up dead. Your friends, your families... Was it worth it?_ Iolaus squeezed his eyes shut and tried to make the voice go away.

"You know," he said out loud, "I used to think about how lucky I was. I got to travel around with Hercules, for crying out loud. Me… the thief, the screw up… he'd picked me to be his friend. And we got to do what we had always talked about. And I felt like… like I was so lucky, because I got to play the hero, instead of doing what everyone else was doing, like being a farmer or a baker or whatever. I would sit back and think, 'My gods, this is my life'." He wasn't even sure who he was talking to anymore, Jason or himself. "And I was so proud, _so_ proud of him. And I never, ever wanted anything that he had. Yeah, there would be occasional feelings of resentment, but I just pushed it away because it wasn't his fault. He can't help it, he can't help how people see him or that he's just great at everything. It's…" He waved his hand vaguely and then picked up his ale again, swirling it around. "It's a demigod thing. And he never, ever made me feel less important, you know? He never treated me like a sidekick. We were always partners, always best friends."

"But..?" Jason prompted.

"But… after a while… I don't know. I never did any of this for the glory. And it was fine, getting left out of the stories sometimes. But my gods… he would introduce me and two minutes later they would forget my name. They could at least try to remember my name, right?" He laughed bitterly. "It's so funny. I spent all this time trying to convince myself that I didn't need to be remembered, but a part of me couldn't help it. Like you said, I'm human right? And… I got my wish. People remember me now," he said, sadly. "Just not for what I would have wanted them to. They'll remember my name, and they'll remember what I did… what Dahak did… and they'll forget that at some point I tried to be a hero."

"You _are_ a hero, Iolaus," Jason said, emphatically.

Iolaus just nodded. "Sure I am." _Yeah, that's me… occasional hero, sometimes blacksmith, lover of women… betrayer of friends, destroyer of worlds…_

Jason had never seen him like this before. Iolaus was always the most confident out of all of them, the most self-assured, the most certain. Jason had seen him take a blow that would knock anyone else unconscious and then jump right back up and start pummeling whoever had hit him. Iolaus was always the sure one, the rock. When Hercules and Jason's families had died he'd been there, helping both of them up, not even thinking about his own losses. Jason had seen him when the Enforcer had beaten him half dead, and Iolaus had somehow managed to keep himself upright and walking long enough to get to Hercules, to warn him, before succumbing to his wounds. Then Hercules had brought him home, and he'd bounced right back into action, like it was nothing. And yes, Iolaus was right that sometimes the constantly being pushed aside for Hercules got to him… Jason had seen it himself a few times, over the years. But, the hunter would always get over it. This didn't sound like Iolaus at all, and it was terrifying. _What did that thing do to him?_

"Iolaus," Jason began, and when the other man didn't answer he repeated, more forcefully, "Iolaus. Look at me." Iolaus rolled his eyes but then begrudgingly looked back over at the former king. "I don't know what that thing told you, or has still got you convinced of, but you _are_ a hero. No one else here could do what you do, including me." Iolaus made a noise like he was going to argue, but Jason pressed on, "I'm being serious. I've seen you run into burning buildings, saving lives, when everyone else was standing around like idiots, too scared to move. No one made you do that, and you sure as hell didn't do it for yourself. And you're the only person I know, god or mortal, that can keep up with Hercules, and kick his ass to boot. I've seen you do it. That's how we both knew that thing wasn't you. If Dahak really had you – all your memories, all your skills – Hercules would be a puddle of goop somewhere in Sumeria and we'd all be… well… food, apparently. Don't you dare sell yourself short. You're a great hero, Iolaus."

"Stop it, Jason. You're going to make me blush," Iolaus quipped sarcastically and sipped his ale.

"Look," Jason was saying, "you may not be a god or a half god, but you still did all those things. You put your life on the line every day, do all the same things Hercules does, and you don't even have his abilities. That means something…" He trailed off, staring at Iolaus strangely. "What? What's wrong?"

Iolaus had stiffened in his seat, and he could feel all the blood draining from his face. He suddenly felt freezing cold. "You… um…" The minute Jason said the words, that feeling of fear, of thinking that none of this was real, came rising up out of the depths. It was almost the same thing Dahak had said to him, in that place between life and death, that horrible limbo. _You did all those things with half his strength. In a way, that makes you better than he ever was._ Iolaus suddenly had to resist going into a full blown panic. "Jason…" He swallowed, stammering. His palms were sweaty. He rubbed them on his pants in a nervous tick.

"What did I say?" Jason asked, concerned. "Iolaus?"

 _Calm down. This is Jason._ Jason _. He didn't mean it, he didn't know…_ "Dahak. He-he said something like that to me once. About how I was better, because I wasn't a demigod. You know, part of his process of breaking me down."

"Fuck," Jason breathed, putting a hand over his face. "Iolaus, I'm so sorry-"

"No, it's okay, it's okay," Iolaus insisted, waving him off. "You didn't know. And Dahak was never as creative as you when it came to slinging insults and curses so… I know it's you. That this isn't a dream."

Jason didn't know whether to laugh at that or not, so he just made a noncommittal noise, still looking over at Iolaus warily. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry that…" The older man took a deep breath. "I'm sorry all those things happened to you, Iolaus. You didn't deserve any of it. You, or Hercules." He shook his head and knocked back the remainder of his ale. "It's not right."

Iolaus just nodded dully. "No… I guess it isn't."

"I couldn't help thinking, after it was all over, if you guys had just stayed here in Greece… But… It would have just happened to someone else."

Iolaus crossed his arms and titled his head, regarding him across the table. "So, you think Hercules and I were just… in the wrong place at the wrong time?"

Jason shrugged. "Maybe," he said, but Iolaus shook his head.

"Gilgamesh sent people to look for Hercules, remember? He needed him to get the Nectar of the Gods. And he needed me there, too. He needed me to die, to let Dahak in. No… what happened wasn't an accident."

Jason's eyes widened. "What are you talking about?" he demanded, trying to keep his voice even.

Iolaus could tell he was starting to scare him, but Jason, unlike Hercules, would be able to handle it without going off the deep end. "You keep saying if it had been anyone else, they wouldn't have been able to fight it. But it was never going to _be_ anyone else. It _picked_ me, Jason. That's what you don't get. What none of you get. It's why I can't talk to Hercules about this, because he'll just argue with me or tell me he's forgiven me, when he _shouldn't_ …" He could feel his temper about to boil over, out of control, and he clenched his fists. "It saw something inside. Inside _me_. It knew it was there. The jealousy, the anger, the resentment… And it knew _exactly_ how to get to me. I have to live with that, Jason. _Me_. I have to live with it for the rest of my life, which I thought was blissfully _over_ and now-"

"First of all," Jason interrupted, forcefully, "the way Hercules tells it, _Gilgamesh_ picked Nebula because Dahak needed a warrior heart and she was convenient-" But Iolaus cut him off, shaking his head.

"No, Jason. It new I would save her. It knew the whole time."

Jason took a deep breath and continued as if Iolaus hadn't spoken, "And second of all… Do you wish you were still dead?"

Iolaus blinked in surprise, seeming to snap out of the dark reverie he'd gotten himself into after Jason had misspoke. "What?" he sputtered, horrified. "Of course not!" He shook his head emphatically, pushing back away from the table and staring at Jason as if he had just said something obscene. "No! No, I don't wish I was dead!"

"All right," Jason said, amicably. "Then what did you mean?"

Iolaus gaped at him. "Exactly what I said… I _thought_ it was over. But it's not. Which is of the things that are good," he added, when Jason was still looking at him strangely. "Would it be easier, if I was still dead? Sure. Of course it would be. I wouldn't be dealing with all of this right now, for one. But I don't _want_ easy, Jason. I want to be alive."

"You sure about that?"

" _Yes!"_ Iolaus insisted. "Jason, I do _not_ wish I was still dead. I may have picked up a new more morbid sense of humor recently, but come on… I'm not _that_ sick." Dying, being dead, was horrible. He'd had to do it three times, each time even more painful and mentally disturbing than the last. Especially this last time, where he couldn't move on, when he was trapped with Dahak for who knew how long, and the only way out was to break down, to let him in, his soul damned forever. Until the Light… "No," he said again. "I enjoy being very much alive."

Jason was giving him a look that Iolaus couldn't quite read. "I was going to say that if you did… I almost wouldn't blame you."

That was just about the last thing Iolaus had expected to hear, and it completely threw him off. "Huh?" he said, stupidly.

"The way you talk about the Light, about it being pure bliss… I don't think I could give that up and then come back here. The world we live in is a hard place, Iolaus. I look at those kids at the Academy, and I'm afraid for them. People are out there dying, starving, killing, raping… I remember thinking, when my family died, how easy it would be to just end it all."

"I… I've never heard you talk about it like that before," Iolaus said softly, mostly to cover up the fact that what Jason had said had struck a significant chord. Life here _was_ harsh, and painful, and loud, and… and wishing he was back in the Light wasn't the same thing as wanting to be dead, right? Wishing for peace wasn't the same thing as wishing for death.

Right?

"Well," Jason was saying, "I try not to think about it like that either. It's pretty dark. But, we all have those thoughts sometimes, Iolaus. Even Hercules. _Especially_ Hercules, after you died. But, like you said… we don't want easy. Sometimes the hardest thing you have to do in this world is live in it. And that's why you and Hercules are heroes. You somehow find a way to get past all those things, to see the good in people, to see a world that could be better, and not dwell on all the bad things. You _live_." He caught Iolaus' eye then. "You're going to get through this. Just like Hercules did… just like I did. The two of you pulled me out of the pit that I had dug for myself and made me live again. And I'll do the same thing for you, if you need me to." He squeezed Iolaus' arm. "You're going to be okay."

Iolaus didn't know quite what to say. "You're right," he began, tentatively, "about… giving up the Light and coming back here. It hasn't been easy. But… I need to live. Like you said. I don't want to be dead, but I'm not really living, either."

"That change isn't going to happen overnight. The dreams aren't just going to go away," Jason told him.

"And I know that. But… they never will if I keep dwelling on everything. And the only way I'm going to get better is to live." It was almost as if a cloud had been lifted off Iolaus' eyes, and he could suddenly see things with brilliant clarity. "I've kind of just been going through the motions recently. I didn't even realize it until you said something just now. Jason… thank you." And he meant it. Talking with Jason, hearing the former king admit to feeling this way himself before, and forcing himself to confront everything, had done wonders for his mental state. It wasn't a one fix solution, but he unexpectedly felt better than he had in months. "I needed this. Really, I did. You've given me a lot to think about."

"I'm always here if you need me," Jason told him.

"I know that." Iolaus smiled at him. "Thanks. I needed to get a lot of that off my chest."

"You're not going to want to hear it, but I really think you should talk to Hercules about some of this. He probably doesn't even realize how bad it's been for you."

"That's just Hercules. He doesn't mean to do it. Like you said, he's got his mind on bigger things." Iolaus realized he sounded resentful again, and gave the former king a half shrug. "But, you're right. I should find a way to talk to him." He took a deep breath and let it out, feeling many of the things that had been weighing him down leave and float away somewhere. "I'm hungry," he said, abruptly, making Jason bark a laugh. "Where's one of those pretty barmaids…"

* * *

Iolaus stared at the flint razor in his hand. He had finished shaving, but for some reason he hadn't put the blade down. He kept staring at it, fascinated, as if it suddenly held the answers to all life's mysteries.

 _Sometimes the hardest thing you have to do in this world is live in it._

Jason had no idea how right he really was.

 _The only way I'm going to get better is to live._

But he'd tried that. He wasn't better. He thought the talk with Jason had helped; it seemed to give in a new zest for life. Then Dacia had happened, and he had realized that he still really wasn't living, that he was using life as an escape.

Hysterical laughter bubbled up. He was using life as an escape and he wanted to escape life… how sick was that?

 _My gods, I'm losing my mind._

Maybe he hadn't given himself enough time. He had thought he was better, before Dacia, but it had brought everything back and then nothing had seemed to work. How much time was enough time? He didn't know. There wasn't exactly a support group he could go to for the things that had happened to him. _Hi, I'm Iolaus. I've been demon free for 276 days now. I sacrificed my soul to a dark god, and he used my body to torture my girlfriend, kill hundreds of people, and then try to destroy the world. Oh, and to do all that? He got me to betray my best friend._

He'd had friends from the wars in Parthia and Troy who never got over all the things that they had seen or done. It had been too much for them, and eventually they had broken just from sheer memories, their minds making them relive battles or tortures over and over and over again. He had felt sorry for them; he couldn't understand how someone could let those things get to them like that, to the point where they had driven themselves mad. The wars, the things he and Hercules had seen in their travels, it had bothered him, too, but… he just figured he and Hercules had seen and done so much that they were past the point of breaking. They had to be, because people depended on them. So he'd thought, _Those poor bastards_ , and shook his head and went on about his life. He'd been so arrogant.

And now here he was, on a ship headed for Persia, standing alone in the captain's quarters with whale fat on his face thinking about how easy it would be for him to take this flint razor and just end it all. So, _so_ easy. Years of fights, of life or death on the battlefield, had come in handy. He knew exactly where on the body to cut so that they couldn't save him. Wrists would take too long – someone would come looking for him. People that did it that way were in for a slow, annoyingly long and painful death. It could take hours.

Iolaus tore his gaze away from the razor to stare at his neck.

There.

There was an artery right there, next to the Adam's apple, above the collarbone. People that slit their wrists were idiots. If they _really_ wanted to kill themselves, they should just take something like this razor and slit their own throats. Sure, it would be messy… there'd be blood everywhere, all over the mirror, pools of it on the floor, Pax would have to clean it up…

The razor made a sharp clanging sound as it hit the basin.

 _What am I doing?_

All the breath left his lungs and he had to hold onto the cupboard to steady himself, he felt so weak. Without even realizing it, he had raised the razor, the tip agonizingly close to that spot on his neck…

 _No point_ , he told himself, forcefully. _Too easy. You don't want easy, remember? You want to live. You_ have _to live._

His hair fell into his eyes, tangled and greasy, and he pushed it away, growling irritably. It had gotten long again. Looking up at the mirror, he hated what he saw. Everything his father used to say to him starting echoing in his mind – how he was no good for anything, that he was a whiner, a crybaby, a weakling – and he grit his teeth against it.

 _No. You're_ not _taking the easy way out. You're not going to prove him right. You're better than this. You can beat this. You are not going to die alone on this gods damned ship in the middle of the ocean, choking on your own blood and misery. Snap out of it. Snap out of it_ now _._

He took a few more deep breaths in an attempt to get himself together, and then grabbed the carafe and splashed a little more of the precious water store into the basin. He used it to scrub the remainder of the whale fat off his face, and then pulled up the bottom of his tunic, using it to blot dry.

 _See?_ he tried to convince himself. _That's better._

He couldn't believe what he had almost done. The thought of it made his stomach churn. It was this ship. It had to be. A week of being cooped up here was getting to him.

Yes. That was it.

He was still upset over leaving Hercules and being stuck here was just making him even more miserable. He should have been off of it by now, in Thrace bartering for a horse or a ride, not standing in front of a mirror hating his own reflection and contemplating grisly suicide.

Disgusted, he grabbed the jar of whale fat and the flint razor and made to put them back in the cupboard when his hair fell into his eyes again. For some reason this small act made him lose what little hold he had left on his temper entirely, and he violently threw the jar across the room, shattering it against the bulkhead.

He hated it. All of it. He hated himself, he hated this ship, he hated his stupid, messy hair…

The razor still in his hand, he grabbed a handful of it and brutally sawed it off, throwing the hunk of hair onto the floor. Breathing heavily, he grabbed another handful and cut that off, too. It felt good. He cut more, and more, and more, and before he knew it there was a pile of blond curls on the wooden deck and he just kept cutting and cutting and cutting…

* * *

Iolaus came out twenty minutes later to the shocked stares of Epeius and his crew.

"I owe you a jar of whale fat," he said, bluntly, and kept walking.

* * *

 _Some fun historical information: Ancient Greeks were people of the beard. That is why I always found it fascinating that everyone was kept so clean shaven on this show. For the Greeks, beards were a sign of virility, manhood, and wisdom. However, and this is where it gets interesting, Greek men would cut their beards during times of grief and mourning. If they couldn't get to a blade, they would tear out their beard with their bare hands or burn it off with fire (!)_

 _Now, I had no idea about this when I came up with the idea for Iolaus to get into a grief induced hair trim. I just know Michael Hurst hated the long hair and has kept it pretty short over the last fifteen years, and frankly I prefer how he looks with it short as well, so I had Iolaus chop it all off. When I was researching what they used to shave with in ancient times I found that above piece of info, it was kind of weird. So I guess Iolaus is kind of keeping up with Greek tradition by taking a razor to his hair, since he is obviously still traumatized and grieving in his own, convoluted way._


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

" _I don't know what you want me to say! It was horrible. It took me years to even get to a place that wasn't utter darkness! Is that what you want to hear? What the hell did you think I was doing? Skipping through the fields, having the time of my life without you? Do you really think I was on some kind of fucking joy ride?" Iolaus threw his arms up, exasperated, and stared at Hercules, waiting for some kind of response. "Well? What do you want me to tell you? What do you want me to say?! Just tell me what you want me to say and I'll say it!"_

 _Hercules just snorted self-righteously and shook his head. "I don't know, Iolaus," he said, sadly. "I don't know what I want you to say. And no… I don't know what you were doing." He shrugged helplessly. "That's kind of the point."_

 _Iolaus stared at him, weary and hurt, and then sighed heavily in resignation. "Fine. You want to do this tonight? Be my guest." He knew Hercules all too well, and he wasn't going to drop the subject, not now. Like a horse in a race, he was going to keep pushing and pushing until he got what he wanted. Iolaus mentally washed his hands of it. "But, I'm telling you right now," he said with an air of warning, "you're not gonna like what you hear." He took a few breaths, as if steeling himself. Then he pursed his lips and nodded at spot on the floor Hercules had vacated earlier. "You'd better make yourself comfortable. We're going to be here a while."_

* * *

 **Now**

Arcas anxiously paced back and forth in front of the barn. _This is so dumb_ , he thought, angrily. _Why doesn't he just go in there and get him himself?_ He looked at the door and then back at the house, a disgruntled look on his face. _Because he wants you two to get along, idiot_.

Arcas sighed. That was rich, considering that from what he'd seen last night, the two men were barely getting along themselves.

His father had come back inside very late into the night looking war-weary and sad, and Arcas didn't push him, mentally or verbally, out of respect for Hercules' feelings, which Arcas wasn't able to sense. It made him nervous; if his father was blocking him, things had to be bad. Hercules had at least told him that he'd explained to Iolaus what had happened in Chin, which was a relief. At least now that was out of the way. But then, Hercules had explained, Iolaus had tried to tell to him what had happened when he'd left all those years ago. The demigod had listened intently up until the point where Iolaus had admitted to almost slitting his own throat, and then couldn't take it anymore and had come back inside. Both men were embittered and hurt, which was not what Arcas had been hoping for, but he figured it wasn't completely unexpected, at least on his father's part. He'd watched him, over the years, go from a thoughtful, caring, if overly protective father, to a brooding, sardonic, but still overly protective older man.

Arcas sighed again and looked up at the sky. Okay, so maybe he'd been a _little_ hard on Iolaus at dinner. And, maybe… just maybe… he'd picked up that overly protective streak from his father.

Maybe.

He shook his head and kicked up some dirt with the toe of his boot, stalling for time. Growing up, his father had only told him the good stories about Iolaus. He, and Jason, had very briefly schooled both Arcas and Meg on Dahak and the aftermath of the demon's rampage through Greece, Eire, and Sumeria. But neither of them had really told Arcas about what Iolaus had been like before he'd left Greece. So, the younger man had tried hard to keep his face as neutral as possible when Hercules was retelling the story.

 _When you're shaving and the next thing you think is, "Hey, that razor would look really stuck good in my neck," yeah… you might have a few problems_ , Arcas thought morbidly. The guy had obviously been pretty messed up. Arcas guessed he couldn't blame him; his abilities allowed him get a glimpse of people's feelings. He remembered when the Academy had been ransacked during his second year, how the younger students had problems coping with what had happened, and how he could feel what they were feeling to the point where he'd had to go stay with Nemesis for a few days to clear his head and get himself under control. Arcas had tried to multiply that feeling tenfold, to get a better idea of what Iolaus had to have been going through in an effort to be more understanding for the sake of his father. He could tell Hercules was not at all happy with the way he had behaved at dinner.

He stopped pacing and stared at the barn door in resignation. _I can do this. I can make nice with "Uncle Iolaus"._ This was _the_ Iolaus, after all. Partner, best friend, brother… he'd heard it all. And the man was also _his_ best friend's father, so he figured he better at least make some kind of attempt at getting along.

 _All right. Let's get this shit show over with._

Arcas took a breath and knocked lightly on the door. He waited a few seconds, and when he received no answer he knocked again, louder. _He better not have taken off again…_

Throwing all respect for privacy out the window, Arcas pushed the door open without waiting for a reply and angrily strode into the barn. He'd barely made it three steps when he stopped in his tracks, mouth hanging open, annoyance melting into astonishment. Iolaus was still there, all right. Only he was upside down in the middle of the room, shirtless, balancing completely on his left hand, totally and absolutely still. Arcas would have believed him to be a statue if he couldn't see the subtle rise and fall of the man's chest as he breathed.

He took a few more tentative steps, tipping his head and watching Iolaus carefully. _What do I do?_ he thought, anxiously. _Do I leave and come back?_ He started circling Iolaus, totally awestruck. The older man hadn't moved a muscle, and his eyes were shut deep in concentration. _Okay. This guy is officially bad ass._

Of course at that moment Iolaus' eyes snapped open, and he tilted is head to the side to watch Arcas encircling him, completely oblivious to the change.

"Morning," Iolaus said politely, making Arcas yelp and jump backward. Iolaus chuckled, still upside down. "Sorry." He pushed off the floor with his fingertips and lowered his legs back to the ground gracefully, standing back upright. Arcas was still staring at him, trying to slow his heartbeat. "You're a little jumpy this morning."

The younger man cleared his throat and pulled down on his tunic in an effort to regain some composure. "Well, I wasn't expecting… that," he said, indicating Iolaus, and then just the general air around Iolaus.

The blond chuckled again and reached down to pick up his discarded shirt off the dusty floor, shaking it out. Arcas narrowed his eyes, staring at something on the other man's arm. It was a symbol, maybe half a finger-length long. It was a dull bluish-black color, not bright like the Indian designs covering his hands and chest, and was situated on Iolaus' right forearm just before the bend at the elbow. His shirt sleeves had been covering it the night before, so Arcas hadn't noticed it.

"What's that?" he asked, pointing at it. "I didn't see it last night. It doesn't look like the other ones." He tried to remember what Iolaus had called it. "The, uh… mehndi?"

Iolaus paused slightly in pulling on his shirt. So slightly, in fact, that Arcas almost missed the small hesitation. "That's because that one's real," Iolaus told him. "I got it a long time ago, in Chin."

"What does it mean?"

The older man gave him a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Something personal."

Arcas nodded slightly. _Touchy subject. Got it._ He made a mental note and filed it away for future use. "Fair enough," he said out loud.

They stood awkwardly in the middle of the barn, staring at each other. "So…" Iolaus began, hesitantly.

"So…" Arcas agreed.

"Your father sent you out here, didn't he?" Iolaus had a knowing look on his face, and it made some of the tension go out of Arcas' shoulders.

"Yeah," he said, grinning. "He's making us breakfast."

"Thought so." Iolaus rubbed the back of his neck and, trying to sound casual, asked, "How's he doing?"

Arcas crossed his arms across his chest and shrugged. "I probably wouldn't have mentioned how you used to like having sharp, pointy things around to cut yourself with," he said, offhandedly.

Iolaus pulled a face. "So… still upset."

"Just a bit."

The older man sighed and dropped back to the ground, sitting cross legged with his chin in his hands. "Great." The move was so familiar, reminding him so much of Meg that at first Arcas was completely taken aback. _Okay… that was weird._

Iolaus glanced up to see him staring, and his brow furrowed in concern. "What?" he asked, making Arcas blink back to awareness.

"Nothing." He walked over to where Iolaus was sitting and joined him on the ground. "It was good he made me come out here, though. I, uh… wanted to apologize. For real this time."

"Ah, so you were insincere last night? I'm shocked," Iolaus deadpanned, but his eyes had a mischievous glint in them. He put a hand on Arcas' shoulder. "It's okay. I don't blame you. You're just looking out for your dad. You probably know him better than I do, at this point," he added wistfully. Arcas had no good response to that so he said nothing. "He was a lot like you when he was your age. The two of you are very similar."

Arcas snorted. "Yeah, so Jason says, too. Anyway… I really am sorry. It's just, well… you've been gone a really long time, and he's been…" He waved his hand impatiently. "Well, he just hasn't been good. And, it was because he missed you, but now you're back, and he's still all confused inside…" He realized he was babbling and stopped, taking a deep breath.

Iolaus gave him a moment to calm down before asking, "How do you know all this stuff? I mean, besides the normal father-son intuition, and the things he's told you himself." He raised his eyebrows and nodded out toward the house. "Like last night. You knew we were arguing, but you couldn't have been listening. You would have known what it had been about. And you were out of breath, like you'd been running."

Arcas' shoulders rose and fell in another sigh. "Yeah, about that…" He picked at a piece of straw that had gotten stuck to his pants. "I can sense things."

When Arcas didn't elaborate, Iolaus prompted, "Things? Like, what things?" A look of realization soon came over his face. "You mean… you can sense _feelings_?" Arcas gave a curt nod, but didn't reply.

 _Ah…_ _Now it's all starting to make sense_ , Iolaus thought, rubbing his chin absently. It explained why Arcas had been so angry when he and Hercules had been talking at dinner, because he could feel his father getting upset and angry. It also explained how he had known the two of them had been screaming at each other once he'd left the house. _He must be able to sense emotions even over a distance,_ Iolaus mused. _Interesting._ It was amazing to him how Zeus' godly blood chose to manifest itself, in both Hercules and Arcas. "And the strength thing…?" The young man shook his head. "So, just… this." Iolaus wasn't exactly sure what to call it.

"My father calls it empathy," Arcas explained, saving him the trouble. "I can sense people's emotions. I've been able to since I was a kid. And I can heal really fast, but… I think that's just a god thing. Well, a quarter-god thing." He looked over at Iolaus, his blue eyes studying the older man intensely. "I can sense everyone except you. I can't read you."

Iolaus figured that probably also explained a lot of Arcas' mistrust. Someone with his abilities would be able to judge a person very quickly on what he could feel from them. And Iolaus had learned a long time ago how to make it seem to people like Arcas that he wasn't there at all. "Well, that's just something you're going to have to get used to," he said, mildly. "I don't like people in my head."

"Yeah, Dad mentioned something like that."

Iolaus shrugged. "He'd be right." Offering no other explanation, he continued, "That must have been hard as a kid. Being able to sense everyone's emotions all the time."

"It was tough. Dad had absolutely no clue how to deal with it. It was tough on both of us. There were times I didn't think he was going to make it. But… we figured it out, together. Evander helped a lot, too. He's more powerful than me, and he had to learn how to control his abilities, too. It was good that I had him around."

"Evander?" Iolaus repeated, surprised. "Jeez… I haven't seen that kid since he was, well… a kid."

Arcas nodded. "Yeah, we spent a lot of time over there when I was growing up, practicing controlling our powers. And he _is_ my cousin, after all. Dad and Nemesis are good friends anyway, so… we all hung out a lot."

A look of surprised comprehension came across Iolaus' face. "Ah," he said, softly, making Arcas glance over at him quizzically.

"What?"

"So… Hercules and Nemesis…" Iolaus trailed off, eyebrows raised, gesturing airily.

Arcas blinked, a blank expression on his face. "Hercules and Nemesis what?" When Iolaus just gave him that same pointed look, he slowly started figuring out what the man was getting at. "Oh. Oh!" _Gods above. That's… just gross._ "No! No, nothing like that. Way off."

Iolaus seemed doubtful. "Really?" he asked, his tone implying he didn't believe Arcas for a second.

"Not that I know of." That required Arcas to think really hard about what his father and aunt might have been up to while he and Evander were playing as children, and he decided he really didn't want to go there. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Uh… my dad really just focused on me and his job."

"So, he never got serious with her? Or… anyone?"

Arcas shook his head. "Nah. It was just me and him." For some reason, this information seemed to make Iolaus look very sad. At least, Arcas _thought_ he looked sad. He tried to reach out again, to get a sense of the man sitting next to him, but all he got was a feeling of blank space, as if there was a hole in the air. Iolaus sat up a little straighter, as if he could tell what Arcas was trying to do. The younger man quickly put his mental shields up again. If Iolaus could block him, there was no telling what else he was capable of.

Iolaus was gazing at him shrewdly, so Arcas cleared his throat again and continued, "I think after what happened the first time, and then that weird thing with him marrying the golden hind but not really since he changed the past…" He brushed that one off. "And then Morrigan leaving… I think he just kind of figured he had me, and that was enough. Better safe than sorry, right?"

Iolaus had no idea what to say to that. It was a depressing thought, and it turned his mind away from Arcas trying to sneak a peek into his brain, at least for the time being. _Time to change the subject._ "So," Iolaus said, "I was a little… upset last night and uh… didn't really get a chance to ask your father about what she was like."

"Who?" Arcas asked, looking genuinely confused.

Iolaus gave him a patient look. "Meg. You know… my daughter?" He nudged Arcas casually with his elbow. "Well, what's she like?"

"You want _me_ to tell you about Meg?"

"Well, yes. It would be nice… I guess. I mean, you probably know her better than anyone, right?"

For some reason, Arcas suddenly became very restless at being put on the spot. "Um…" he stuttered, "okay. She's… well… she's my best friend. We grew up together… She has blond hair." He nodded at Iolaus. "Blond curly hair. She looks kinda like you." He laughed. "My father would say she acts like you, too, when she pisses him off."

Iolaus tried to hide a smile at that.

"She's funny," Arcas continued, "she's stubborn, hell of an archer… I dunno. You're just going to have to meet her."

"Yeah…" Iolaus agreed, quietly, lost in thought.

Arcas didn't have to be an empath to note the sudden change in Iolaus' demeanor. _He's going to chicken out, I know it._

Iolaus sighed and got up, brushing the hay off his pants. "So, about going to the Academy today…" Arcas repressed a sigh himself and shook his head, silently. "I… I'm just not sure I'm ready for that. It's a lot to take in. I feel like I should, I dunno… prepare, or something. And I don't want to get in the way with whatever you all were going there to do."

He glanced down at Arcas to see that the stern mask he'd had on in the house last night was firmly back in place again, and inwardly groaned. _Wonderful… nice job, Iolaus._ He felt like he was just making some progress with Hercules' son and now he'd unintentionally blown it.

Arcas pushed himself up off the floor, scowling irritably. _Boy do I hate it when I'm right,_ he thought. "Look, man… that's just too damn bad. You've been gone twenty years. That's enough time to prepare. So, put your big boy pants on, nut up, and come have some breakfast." He raised an eyebrow at Iolaus before turning around and heading out of the barn, back toward the house. "We're leaving as soon as we're done eating," he called over his shoulder.

Iolaus watched him go, blinking in shock and confusion. He couldn't decide what to make of him. The kid flashed hot and cold more than a hormonal Hestial virgin. But, he was Hercules' son, and apparently his daughter's best friend, so he guessed he'd better figure out a way to make it work. He probably should have just kept his reservations about the day to himself, but felt he ought to be honest. _Guess not_ , he thought, wryly.

Iolaus ran his hand over his face. _Hercules has a son and I have a daughter…_ _You picked a hell of a time to come home, buddy._ He wondered vaguely if Bahari, the crafty old man he'd studied under in India, had secretly known about all this stuff and what Iolaus was getting into when he said he was heading back to Greece. He had looked insufferably pleased with himself that day. Of course, Bahari always looked like that, so it was kind of hard to tell. Iolaus made an annoyed noise and began lacing up his shirt. He wondered if Hercules still had any of his old clothes lying around, but then came to the conclusion that the answer was probably no.

 _Come have some breakfast_. So, he guessed Hercules wasn't so angry that he wanted Iolaus to sit in the barn and starve. Or, maybe Arcas was just trying to screw with him and play devil's advocate. He had felt it when the younger man had tried to go snooping around in his head, but had chosen not to make a big deal out of it, at least for now. Arcas was a psi; it was a natural reaction for him to try and get a sense of those around him. Iolaus was going to have to ask Hercules more about this empathy thing. Once, of course, Hercules could talk to him again without seething. He'd been pretty upset last night. _We both were_ , he mused, inwardly.

Iolaus realized he probably shouldn't have been so descriptive in his story, but Hercules acting like everything had been so easy, like he'd taken a nice long and relaxing vacation instead of rebuilding himself, body and soul, had cut him deeply. _He's become so bitter._ He thought back to what he'd seen in India, how he'd been able to use the spirit realm to see the past and present and even take a glimpse into their future lives, and wondered if he should really be all that surprised. He had seen some things he knew he shouldn't have – things that should have made him want to come home a long time ago.

An old familiar feeling was working its way up out of the depths – guilt. Iolaus had dealt with it so much over the past twenty years that he recognized it immediately. It had gone from an overwhelming burden to a dull ache over the years as he had traveled and learned and understood how to deal with everything that had happened. There had been times where it had almost been unbearable, like when Li had told him about Xena and Gabrielle, and about Zeus. He'd had to fight tooth and nail with not only Li but with himself over the overwhelming urge to run home, to get to Hercules, to make sure he was okay…

In the end, he had chosen to stay and work on himself. And he knew that he'd made the right decision, but the guilt was still there, especially now that he was back, especially after finding out about Meg and Arcas, especially after the cold, bitter way the demigod was behaving… Yes, the guilt was there. Along with regret. He truly didn't know what he would have done if Hercules had been able to tell him about Meg all those years ago, but he knew there was nothing he could do to change that now. He, and Hercules, had to continue moving forward. They couldn't go back.

Deciding maybe Arcas was right and he really had stalled long enough, Iolaus sighed and followed him before the young man, and his father, could start coming up with cock-eyed reasons why he hadn't joined them yet. Arcas would just assume he was being a jerk, and Hercules would just assume he'd been carried off by a chimera. He'd almost wished one would appear to spare him the utter disaster that was sure to be this day. Iolaus had to admit Arcas was right; he couldn't put off meeting his daughter forever. It would only make things worse. _My daughter…_ He was still having a hard time wrapping his mind around that concept. He'd wanted a family – had _had_ a family – a long time ago, but he'd resigned himself to the fact that it was never going to happen for him. _At least she grew up in a palace with a mother that cared about her_ , he thought. _She grew up a princess…_ Iolaus snorted. Of all the scenarios he could come up with for if and when he'd had another family, having a child by a queen and then having them raised to rule an entire kingdom was _not_ one of them.

The Indian people believed in something called karma. Good deeds contributed to good karma, while bad deeds contributed to bad karma, and future suffering. Iolaus hadn't really put that much stock in it until now, believing that you made your own destiny, and he wasn't completely sure if it this was good or bad karma coming back to bite him in the ass. _Guess I'll find out._

Arcas had left the front door of the house open to let in the morning sun, and Iolaus cautiously peered his head around to peek inside from the patio. The younger man was already digging into his food, and Hercules was busying himself in the kitchen. He glanced up as Iolaus slowly walked inside, and then just as quickly looked away again. He looked exhausted. Iolaus figured he probably didn't look much better himself.

"Morning," the demigod said, noncommittally.

"Morning," Iolaus said back. He rocked back and forth on his heels, fiddling with his shirt, trying to roll the sleeves up and lace them so they'd stay. Hercules noticed and said to him, "You may want to find some different clothes."

"Oh… yeah. I was thinking that. I think I have some leathers in my pack somewhere…"

Hercules nodded. "Good. Those look like the pajama things they made you wear in that underground city."

Iolaus looked at him askance. "Huh?"

"You. Salmoneus. Lotus leaf…"

"Ooooh right. Ha, yeah, I guess they kind of do." Iolaus had almost forgotten about that. Hercules just grunted and brought out a plate for him of bread, fruit, honey, and yogurt.

"There's still some duck left, if you want that, too," he said, putting it on the table. "Have a seat."

"Thanks." Iolaus sat. The tension was so thick he could have cut it with a knife. He could feel Arcas watching the exchange with interest and tried not to notice. "So, what's the plan?"

"Go to the Academy… meet up with Meg," Arcas said between swallows.

"Yeah, I got that part."

"Well, we don't know now," Hercules added, sitting down next to his son. "We, uh… weren't expecting…" He gestured to Iolaus.

"…Yeah. I got that, too." Iolaus stared at his food. He really wasn't all that hungry, and he missed the spices they had in India. He decided it probably wouldn't be wise to mention that. Instead, he tried to unobtrusively look Arcas over a little more closely, remembering something from Hercules' story the night before. He finally caught a glimpse of the piece of garnet the demigod said he'd brought back from Chin. It was strung around Arcas' neck on a short cord, the bottom of the gem disappearing into the top of his shirt. Iolaus hadn't noticed it before, because he wasn't looking for it. Not that he didn't believe Hercules' story about going to Chang'an and Hangzhou; the demigod wouldn't have had as much knowledge about Jiang, or Li, if he hadn't. But it was a physical validation, once that made Iolaus' heart heavy. He wondered if Arcas had literally worn it every day for the last twenty years…

Growing tired of thinking about it, Iolaus asked, "What's she doing at the Academy, anyway?" He was genuinely curious. "I figured you two were done. I mean, not that I mind going. I would like to see Jason, of course…" He wondered, tiredly, if the Argonaut was going to have the same reaction as Hercules, but Jason had always been a bit more levelheaded than either of his two younger friends. Or, he had used to be.

"It's graduation," Arcas explained. "Meg went to help Jason with it. He likes for Dad to come every year."

"The _students_ like for me to come every year," Hercules corrected.

"Whatever. So, Meg and I started coming back, too. We help with the ceremony, we spar with the older kids." He shrugged. "And it's nice to see Jason. I spent a lot of time with him here, growing up. He's like an uncle."

Iolaus pursed his lips and just made an agreeable sounding noise. The guilt was coming back, mixed with a small pang of annoyance. _Jason, Herc, Meg, and Arcas_ … Iolaus felt like the odd man out.

"I'm just surprised that Niobe let her come," Arcas was saying, making Iolaus glance over at him.

"Why's that?" he asked. Arcas and Hercules exchanged quick glances, making him scowl. "Guys, enough with the secret looks, okay? Spit it out."

"Uh… so, Niobe wasn't too thrilled on the idea of Meg going to the Academy to begin with," Hercules explained. "It was something of a point of contention."

"She obviously ended up changing her mind." Iolaus picked at a piece of fruit, rolling it around on his plate.

"Yeah… well…" Hercules cleared his throat. "You can ask her about it when we get there."

 _Joy_ , Iolaus thought, humorlessly. Tiring of the tension and forced conversation, he sat back in his chair and fixed father and son with a shrewd look. "So, how bad is this going to be?" he demanded.

"How bad is _what_ going to be?" Hercules countered. He took a sip of whatever was in his cup and didn't meet Iolaus' eyes. He'd barely looked at him for more than half a second since Iolaus had come into the house.

"I don't know about you, but this is going to be a _really_ long day if the two of you keep trying to deflect all my questions."

Hercules just chewed his food and still wouldn't look over at him. Iolaus waited a few beats, drumming his fingers on the table, but the demigod still tried to affect the air that he was intensely engrossed in his breakfast. The blond tried very hard to repress an eye roll. _Fine_.

"So, what am I in for?" he asked, raising his eyebrows and glancing back and forth between Arcas and Hercules. "Scathing comments? Downright hate? Death and dismemberment? What?"

Hercules winced at the death and dismemberment comment but Iolaus pretended not to notice, and Arcas was just oblivious to the dark attempt at humor.

"I wouldn't go that far," he said, jokingly. "But I don't think she'll be pleased-"

"You really think she grew up hating your guts with me around to tell her about you?" Hercules interrupted suddenly. He finally tore his gaze away from his plate to stare at Iolaus across the table. "Come on, Iolaus. I wouldn't have let that happen."

Iolaus suppressed a sigh. "I guess that's true," he said, agreeably, trying to put off another argument. "I just-"

Hercules shook his head and quickly pushed back away from the table, the chair making a scraping sound that made both Iolaus and Arcas cringe. "You better go get changed," he said dryly, and stamped off to the back bedroom.

Arcas fixed Iolaus with a withering look. "Now you've done it," he sighed. "He'll be back there all morning now, slamming things and muttering to himself. We'll probably miss lunch."

Iolaus just sat back in his chair in resignation and popped a grape in his mouth. _At least I got him to look at me._ True to Arcas' word, he could hear what sounded like Hercules randomly opening cupboard drawers and slamming them roughly back closed again. _Great. Days that start out this way are never a good thing._

* * *

 **Then – Iolaus**

Iolaus had no idea where he was. Days that started out that way were never a good thing.

He blinked his eyes open and slowly sat up on something billowy and soft, which at least told him he was in a bed. Now, if he only knew _whose_ bed…

He looked over to his right to see not one but two sleeping forms next to him and raised his eyebrows. _Well… wherever I am, apparently I had a really good time._

It was damn hot as well. He heard what sounded like the howling of wind but it was more of a whistling sound, almost as if it was coming from a tunnel, which gave him the impression that he was up high somewhere.

 _What the hell…?_

He slowly took in his surroundings, scratching his hair. It had been three weeks since he'd taken the razor to it, and it still itched where he had gotten too close to his scalp.

He was in what looked like a stone dwelling of some kind. It was small, and seemed to only consist of two chambers separated by a curtain behind him. The bed he was in was in the front room; he could just barely make out the modest furniture through the light that was bleeding through the thatched door.

He couldn't remember anything from the night before, and as his tired mind slowly started working through its confused fog, the hunter in him started getting apprehensive. The two women next to him were still sound asleep, but he had no idea if there was anyone, or anything, else in the home with them.

Iolaus wrinkled his nose and sniffed the air. There was some kind of sour smell… _Oh_ , he thought, catching a glimpse at the small bedside table to his left. There were still some remnants of opium powder and the burnt ends of leaves scattered across it. _That would explain why I can't remember anything._

He made to get up and then realized as the sheets moved against him that he was completely naked. He glanced around the room wildly, picked up the pillows and sheets, but his clothes, dagger, and sword were nowhere to be found. _Dammit. That's just wonderful._

Wrapping one of the light bed sheets around his waist, he cautiously rose out of the bed so as not to disturb the two sleeping women and padded across the room to the door, trying to peek through the cracks to get some idea of where he was. He could see at least one of his boots laying on the stone walkway in front of the house. _Okay, that's a start…_

He also got a glimpse of mountains. Lots of mountains. And a lot of sky that seemed to go on and on for miles.

 _Fuck._

Making sure the sheet was secure, he quietly pushed the door open, stepped outside, and almost lost his footing. He shut the door and pressed himself against it, eyes wide. The hut was situated on top of a cliff. A very steep cliff, with a very narrow and windy stone walkway that lead even further up the mountain.

 _Where_ am _I?_

His boot was lying about two steps away from him, precariously close to the edge. Iolaus just hoped to whatever gods were listening that the rest of his clothes hadn't been tossed off the side some time during the night. At least he'd left his vest at Jason's. He would never have forgiven himself if he'd lost it.

He straightened his sheet and bent down to grab his boot when he heard the braying of a donkey, and turned to see an older Persian man leading it down the narrow walkway. The height or the narrowness of the path didn't seem to bother him, and he barely gave Iolaus a second glance as he walked by.

 _They know how to speak Greek in Persia, right?_ He was having a hard time remembering, his mind was still too fuzzy from the apparent drug induced stupor he'd gotten himself into the night before.

"Uh, excuse me?" Iolaus asked, cautiously. The man slowed and turned back around to face him. Iolaus cleared his throat and, holding his sheet up with one hand and the boot with the other, said, "I'm sorry to bother you, but, um… where am I?"

At first the man merely stared at him, and Iolaus was concerned that perhaps they didn't speak Greek after all. _That can't be right, though, I've spoken Greek since I got here…_ He hadn't had to speak Persian in years. _Gods. Who knows what I'll end up saying if I try…_ It took Iolaus a moment to realize the man was looking him up and down with a wary look on his face. _Or, he's just trying to decide if I'm a nutcase._

After a beat in which Iolaus tried to look as nonthreatening as was possible while being half naked, wearing a sheet and holding a boot, the man answered, "Ecbatana."

Iolaus' eyes widened and he leaned against the outside of the house, stunned. "Ecbatana …" he repeated in disbelief, as the man quickly turned and dragged the donkey down the path, eager to get away. _How in Tartarus did I get to Ecbatana?_ It was technically on the way to Chin, but that still didn't explain how he got up the mountain in the middle of the night, high as all hell, and with two women in tow.

He jumped and clutched at the sheet around his waist as the door swung open lazily and a dark skinned woman came sauntering out. She gave Iolaus an appraising look, running her hands over what was left of his hair and then down his chest.

"Um… hi," Iolaus said warily, taking the woman's hand and gently removing it from the trail it was making towards where the sheet was tied.

She smiled coyly at him, then turned and walked down the path the same way the man and the donkey had gone.

 _Where did she come from?_ Iolaus blinked and then poked his head back in the door where he could still see the two women in the bed. _Wow. I had a really,_ really _good time._ If he couldn't remember anything else, he wished he could at least remember that.

He shook his head to clear it of a completely different kind of fog that had settled over his brain. _Okay. Enough of that. Find your clothes, and then get the hell out of here._ Because he also couldn't remember where he had gotten the opium, or who from, and since he'd seemed to have misplaced his weapons, he was in no mood to find out whether they were as friendly as the women undoubtedly were. Unless he got it from them, and this was their house. He had a feeling, however, that was not the case.

His suspicions were confirmed as while he quietly and cautiously tip toed around the room, he pulled back the curtain to the next chamber and caught a glimpse one of the longest, most wicked looking scimitars he had ever seen leaning against the far wall. _Yep. I do_ not _need to meet whoever that belongs to_ , he thought, hastily shutting the curtain again. He peered down at the women and raised an eyebrow. _I really hope that doesn't belong to one of your brothers… or husbands._

As he was mulling that over, he finally caught a glimpse of his shirt sticking out from underneath the bed. He grinned triumphantly, wriggling under it to find the remainder of his clothes and other boot. There were still no sign of his sword or dagger.

The two women started making waking noises, so he quickly threw the sheet on the floor and got dressed, hopping towards the door as he pulled on his boots. He threw a hesitant glance over his shoulder. He still needed to find his weapons. And there was all that opium on the table…

 _Weapons_ , he told himself, sternly.

Iolaus crept past the bed and back over to the curtain, pulling it aside again ever so slightly. _Come on, they have to be around here somewhere…Ah!_ He spotted his scabbard, luckily with the sword still inside, on a large wooden table in the middle of the room. He decided he could do without the dagger or just get another one, but he had to have his sword. And he needed to get out of wherever he was and back down into the city.

His senses heightened, he slipped through the curtain and across the room. There didn't seem to be anyone else home, but Iolaus knew better than to assume. Especially in Persia. And especially when there was opium involved.

He got a flash of memory. Someplace dark, crowds of people, sour smell, barely being able to see for all the clouds of smoke… an opium den. He'd been in another opium den last night.

There had been a fight.

Iolaus immediately halted as he felt a flash of pain he had unexpectedly become aware of. He lifted up his shirt to see a large, darkening bruise on his side, at the bottom of his rib cage. Not broken, at least. But definitely cracked. He got another flash of some guy hitting him repeatedly in the side and stomach, then a hot spray of blood…

 _Oh. That's where I left my dagger._

He remembered now. He'd made port in Smyrna weeks ago, and had numbly and slowly been making his way through Persian territory towards India. This wasn't the first time he'd woken up like this, having no memory of the previous night's, or sometimes even days', events. He'd known exactly where to go to get what he needed; he'd tried it once before, when Anya had died, but hadn't been that far gone to tempt the fates and whoever else skulked in the dark corners of the opium dens. He hadn't wanted to put himself in that kind of danger on purpose. Funny how things changed.

Now it was a thrill, just about the only one he could get anymore. Sitting in dark corners with dangerous men and lit up women wondering, is this the night when it ends?

He bit his lip and shut his eyes against it. Last night had been the low point. He'd already been pretty dosed up by the time he'd gotten to the den in Ecbatana. He still couldn't remember how exactly he'd gotten to the city, but he figured it didn't matter. He was where he needed to be – _had_ to be. The dreams had stopped, thank the gods, but if he didn't have more they would come again.

He remembered stumbling out sometime later; couldn't remember exactly why he'd left. He thought it was because he didn't like the looks he was getting from some of the den masters. He was Greek after all, and blond. That seemed to fascinate the people here. They always wanted to touch his skin and hair, which he really didn't mind half the time if he was being honest. One woman had even asked if his skin was made of gold and he'd invited her to find out…

But these guys were looking at him in a totally different way. A hungry way. Greedy. He'd been lucid enough to realize that if he didn't get out of there and fast, he'd probably wake up chained to a post on an auction block. Or worse… chained up in some den master's chambers.

So he'd stood up as fast as he was able through the cloud of smoke around him and hastily found the exit, which he'd marked earlier without even realizing it. His warrior instincts – the ones that told him to always take in his surroundings, to always know where and how to escape, to locate anything and everything that could be used as a weapon – were so second nature to him now that he'd barely even registered he'd been using them. He remembered being annoyed by that; he probably couldn't let anyone sneak up on him, put a knife to him, even if he'd wanted to.

Did he want to?

He figured he'd find out soon enough, as he stumbled down an alley using the outsides of the buildings to keep himself upright, and came across a young woman fighting for her life. She was definitely a prostitute, judging by her state of dress and from all the coins that had been flung haphazardly through the alley as she struggled with her attacker. Iolaus had hidden his sword earlier in the evening, as most of the opium dens wouldn't let him in with it, but they hadn't found his dagger.

He didn't have to fake most of his slurred speech or wavering gait as he told the guy to back off and leave the girl alone. He leaned against the wall again as the entire alley way spun. Was there one or two men? He thought there was only one. He blinked and shook his head as the man barked something at him in Persian. Iolaus didn't have to know the language to figure out he was being told to mind his own business, and probably some other kind of creative insults involving his mother. The man sneered at him and went back to trying to assault the girl.

"I _said,_ leave her alone," Iolaus repeated, over emphasizing every word with the meticulousness of someone who knew they were totally and completely wasted out of their mind. He had pushed himself off the wall and was standing unstably in the middle of the alley. His dagger was safely under his shirt, secured to his back, the hilt sticking out of his belt. His fingers twitched but he made no move to grab it yet.

The Persian man roughly threw the girl to the ground and whirled on him, a mixture of annoyance and amusement on his face as he took in the wobbly form of Iolaus in front of him. He said something goading to him in Persian… Iolaus thought it was something like, "What are you going to do about it?"

Iolaus shrugged. "Come find out," he spat in Greek, making sure to look even more off balance.

The Persian grinned at him menacingly, displaying rotten teeth, before surging towards Iolaus, who backed up towards the wall. The man swung around, about to deliver a jaw breaking right hook. He put more power into it than was necessary due to over confidence that Iolaus was in no position to defend himself. The hunter waited patiently until the last possible moment, and then ducked swiftly out of the way. The man's fist collided painfully with the building Iolaus had been leaning on, eliciting a sharp crack of bones breaking and a howl of pain from the Persian.

Iolaus rolled his eyes in disgust and gave his would be assailant a brutal kick to the back of his kneecap, forcing the Persian man to the ground. "When will people learn to stop underestimating me?" he muttered, turning his back on the man in order to help the girl up off the ground.

With a snarl, the Persian suddenly leapt up and grabbed a handful of what was left of Iolaus' hair, digging painfully into his scalp and forcing his head back at an excruciating angle. _Gods dammit, I thought I was done with you._ He tried to use the larger man's weight against him but, before he could move, he felt three hard and painful blows to his side. Iolaus didn't know if the man was aiming for his ribs or his kidneys, but whatever he was doing caused something in the hunter to suddenly snap. A fire burned from somewhere deep inside him, and twisting out of the man's grip, he grabbed his dagger from his belt. Before he really even knew what he was doing, and long before the other man had any time to respond, he was plunging it hilt deep into his attacker's neck. Blood spurted across his hand and face as Iolaus, breathing heavily, stared at the Persian until the light left his eyes. When he was sure the man was dead, he finally removed his hand from the hilt and stepped back, allowing the body to drop to the ground.

Iolaus stared at the body for a few moments before shakily stumbling over to the girl, who was still in a crumpled heap in the dirt. "You okay?"

The girl looked at him, then at the body, before shoving Iolaus out of the way and collecting all the coins that had been strewn on the ground. She then dug around in the dead Persian's clothes until she found another sack of coins, and with a final worried look at Iolaus, she took off down the alley and around the corner.

All Iolaus could do was laugh in stunned disbelief. At least now he knew whether he would let somebody kill him or not. That was what had caused the enraged fire when the Persian had hit him. No one was going to take that power away from him ever again; not some thug or warlord or crazed sorcerer of Dahak's… If he wanted to die, he'd bloody well do it himself, dammit.

He slumped down in the dirt where the girl had lain moments before, eying the dagger still sticking out of the Persian's neck. The ground under his body was already stained a deep, ugly red. _Maybe slitting your own throat isn't the way to go_ , he thought vaguely, watching the red take more and more of the sandy colored dirt around the dead man. It really did make a terrible mess…

 _Do you really want to kill yourself with the same dagger you just stuck in a rapist's throat?_

Iolaus shrugged noncommittally and answered, _No. I guess not._

 _And now I'm talking to myself…_

He didn't remember what transpired next… he had vague recollections of sitting in the alley with the body before stumbling around trying to remember where he'd hidden his sword. More opium… sounds of voices… female voices… feeling of climbing up something steep ( _Ah, that would be the mountain_ ). Then more opium and the feel of soft bedding and bodies…

Iolaus' mind suddenly came back to small room in the hut. He quickly shook himself out of the torrent of images that flooded his memory and took a closer look at his shirt. He could see the blood splatter on it now. His hands were mercifully clean. He must have washed them at some point in the night, figuring it wouldn't be good to be wandering around Ecbatana high and covered in blood.

He'd slit a man's throat last night. Is that where he'd gotten the rest of the opium? Shivering, he decided he really didn't want to remember.

Something changed in the room. The temperature seemed to drop, and the hairs on Iolaus' neck started standing up. _Get out. Get out of here now._ He took the remaining few steps and grabbed the sword off the table before his mind finally registered the word, _Trap_.

"If you're looking for your knife, you left it in my brother's throat."

 _Too late._

Iolaus stiffened and slowly turned around. There was a man in the house now. A very large man, holding the scimitar he had seen earlier. Iolaus mentally kicked himself. He'd been too busy trying to piece together the events of last night when he should have been high tailing out of there, and he was still fuzzy from all the sex and opium that he'd dropped his guard, forgot the same instincts that he wished last night would just disappear…

"You don't remember, do you, golden one?"

Iolaus blinked, trying to repress a laugh, and tilted his head to stare at the guy. "Golden one?" he repeated incredulously. "You've _got_ to be kidding me."

The big Persian raised the scimitar and ran a finger down the edge, examining its sharpness. "That's what my sisters called you. They found you very interesting. "

Iolaus winced. _Damn._ At least it was a brother and not a husband. Although he was sure one of those would probably pop up any second now, just for some extra fun.

The guy was leering at him in a way that made Iolaus' skin crawl. He didn't like where his eyes were going. _What_ is _it with everybody here? Do I look like a flute boy at one of Aphrodite's temples?_ He made a mental note to maybe change his clothes.

"Hey, buddy… I'm up here," he said, snapping his fingers and waving his sword. "The part that talks, at least. I know on you that's probably not the case." He was rewarded for that insult with a vicious backhand that he wasn't quick enough to avoid, and it sent him spinning into the table behind him. _Me and my big mouth._ He tasted the metallic tang of blood and spit it out. The bastard had split his slip. He recalled Hercules telling him, on numerous occasions, that his fast and often smart ass mouth was the cause for a lot of his trouble. "What can I say, Herc?" he had joked once. "It's a gift. I can't help myself."

He heard footsteps behind him and stayed still against the table, slowly inching his sword out of its sheath, his body hiding what he was doing from his attacker. _Iolaus_ , he told himself, _Herc's right. You really need to learn to help yourself._ At the last second, Iolaus spun, his sword flying out of its sheath and into the stomach of his would be assassin. The man stared at him, wide eyed. He hadn't even raised the scimitar.

"Yeah, golden one is pretty quick on his feet," Iolaus said harshly, retracting his sword and pushing the Persian out of the way. He grabbed his scabbard and quickly ran through the front of the house, startling the women who had just come out of their drug crazed sleep. He felt bad for them; they probably had no idea what had happened the night before either, and now he'd managed to kill both their brothers.

 _Killed. You killed two men in less than a day._

He had killed before, of course, but that had been in war or when there was no other choice. He and Hercules never killed if they could help it.

He could have helped it. He just didn't care.

Quick as a flash, he sheathed his sword and scooped up the remainder of the opium from the bedside table and then ran out the door, narrowly avoiding tipping himself over the side of the cliff as he did so. He stood there for a moment, looking down onto the jagged rocks and the city far in the distance. The hand that held the opium was shaking, covered in blood.

Iolaus felt sick – sick, dirty, and somehow violated. He opened his palm to stare at the powder before tossing it over the side of the cliff and wiping the remainder off on his pants. He regretted it instantly. That was how he knew he'd made the right choice.

He took off quickly but carefully down the path and back into the city, only stopping when he was sure no one had followed him. _Enough_ , he told himself, firmly. _Enough now._ He'd almost let two people kill him in the last eight hours, could maybe remember one day out of three since he'd gotten to Persia. He'd decided last night that he wasn't going to put the rest of his life in someone else's hands like that again and not even an hour later, he was high on a mountain top risking it all, and for what? He wanted bliss, peace… and this wasn't either. _You're going to die before you even get to Chin._

The dreams were going to come again now. His stomach clenched at the thought of them. But so did the sight of all the blood pouring out onto his sword. He was losing himself, losing his soul, in a way that was completely different than what had happened with Dahak.

 _Enough. This has got to stop. You've got to stop._

At least that's what he told himself. He had himself convinced he could do it, too. And he didn't go back to any more opium dens as he traversed through Persia and into India.

But he also hadn't been able to resist the pull, the sweet escape that opium and wine brought, and by the time he'd gotten to India he was having trouble remembering why he'd even gone there in the first place.


End file.
